faint disposition to wait
upon her employer, but it was easily vanquished by his assertion that he
would eat nothing unless she sat down, too. A few minutes later, it was
he who was doing whatever work was to be done, and she sitting with her
elbows on the table watching him. There seemed, after all, nothing
unnatural in this new relation.

Presently, Willoughby, hearing the sound of dishes, or smelling the
chicken salad, awoke and jumped on the table.

"Do you mind him?" asked his mistress in melting tones.

Crane didn't mind him at all. He offered the cat a bit of chicken.
Willoughby seemed to enjoy it, chewing it with quick little jerks of his
head. And presently, he raised a paw and deflected a fork which Crane
was carrying to his own mouth. Even this Crane appeared to find amusing.

Before they had finished, the kitchen clock behind them suddenly and
discordantly struck once. Burton started and half turned his head, but
she stopped him.

"Let's guess what time it is," she said. "Of course, it's later than
half past ten. It might be half past eleven."

"Or even half past twelve."

"It could be one."

"But certainly not half past."

They looked around. It was half past.

Jane-Ellen sprang up.

"Oh, how dreadful!" she exclaimed, without, however, any very real
conviction. "How terribly late, and I have to get up so early in the
morning."

"It makes me desperately ashamed," said Crane, "to think you have to get
up to cook for all of us and that I can sleep just as late as I want
to."

She laughed.

"If you haven't anything worse to worry about than that, you're very
lucky."

But he had something to worry about, and as soon as she was gone, he
began to worry about it, namely, the painful and complicated situation
of a man who has fallen in love with his cook.

VIII

MRS. FALKENER never came down to breakfast. At nine to the minute, her
bell tinkled, and Lily staggered up to her room bearing a tray, from
which, it subsequently appeared, many essentials had been forgotten; the
next ten minutes were spent by the unfortunate housemaid in trips to the
pantry in search of salt, powdered sugar or a tea-strainer.

Cora, however, came down and poured out coffee for the two men. She
looked handsome and vigorous in this occupation, and Crane, sitting
opposite to her, wondered if it were his destiny to sit so for the rest
of his life. He watched her thin white hand