and barefooted, shuffling about the table, with
fresh relays of waffles, biscuits, fried chicken. They ranged in size
from the coachman's youngest to Big Liza herself, queen of the kitchen;
a monumental figure whose apron-strings barely met about her
blue-gingham waist, and whose giggles threatened momentarily to overcome
her.

"Well, old woman, this _is_ a surprise!" murmured her mistress. "What
brings you into the dining-room?"

Big Liza shook like the aspic she was carrying. "Laws, Miss Kate, honey,
I allus did have a eye fo' de gentlemen," she said coyly. "I des
'bleeged ter have a peep at de beaux. Mighty long time sense we-all's
had a party at Sto'm!"

Jemima cast a reproachful glance at her mother; but the "beaux,"
accustomed from infancy to the ways of servants like Big Liza, responded
cheerfully to the old woman's advances, bantering and teasing her till
she retired to her kitchen in high delight, tossing her head.

Channing listened in sheer amaze. "Primitive? Why, it's patriarchal!
Positively Biblical in its simplicity!" he thought.

Jemima was as pink as her decorations.

"Judging from the Apple Blossom's expression," murmured Thorpe to Mrs.
Kildare, "you have committed a hopeless social error in conversing with
your cook."

"I know! It was too bad of me. She takes her little party very
seriously," said the other, remorsefully. "Don't you dare laugh at her,
Jim! It is her first, and she's done it all by herself!"

"If she made this puff-paste herself, no man in the world will think of
laughing at her," he said heartily. "But--their social instincts are
awaking, Kate. They come by them very naturally. It is time for your
girls to have their chance."

She winced. "What shall I do about it? How can I manage? I have no
friends now. There is nobody I can count on to help them."

He leaned toward her, his lined face for the moment almost beautiful.

"There is always me, Kate. Hasn't the time come to let me help you, for
their sakes? As Mrs. Thorpe--" he paused, and continued quietly, with a
rather set look about his jaw, "As Mrs. Thorpe I think I can promise you
a few friends, at least. And a--protector--though I may not look like
one," he finished, wistfully.

She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. She always avoided, when she
could, these offers of help, knowing that when he grew tired of making
them she would miss him. But she had not the courage to send him away,
to break with him entirely.