the
kitchen doorway, she saw that the speed of her young hostess's labours
and the warmth of the kitchen were quite likely to prevent all chance of
undried locks.

There was system about Georgiana's work, fast as was its pace. Each trip
across the floor, from pantry to dining-room and back again,
demonstrated housewifely efficiency. Both hands were always full and she
seemed never to forget what she meant to do. If she passed the stove on
her way somewhere she stopped to stir something or to glance into the
oven, and when she went to the storeroom for cream she brought away
bread and butter as well.

Jeannette commented admiringly. "Don't you ever forget and have to run
back for something?" she inquired.

"Goodness, yes! But when you've been over certain ground several million
times, it's a pity if you can't make your head save your heels as a
rule. Excuse me, dear; but if you wouldn't mind standing just a foot or
two to the left----"

Jeannette turned. "I see; I'm in the way when I'd like so much to help.
Isn't there anything I could do?"

"All done, thank you--except--would you just arrange that boxful of
scarlet geraniums Jimps brought over, for the table? That would help
very much. Take any bowl or glass from the dining-room cupboard that
looks appropriate to you."

"I'd love to." And Jeannette fell to work--if it could be called work.
Never in her life had she arranged scarlet geraniums as a table
decoration, or, for that matter, seen them so used. But as she placed
the splendid, thrifty blooms, each with its accompanying rich green
leaves, in the plain brown bowl which she felt best matched their
undistinguished beauty, she discovered for the first time that other
blossoms besides roses and orchids, chrysanthemums, and the rest of the
ordinary florists' products, may charm the eye from the centre of a
snowy cloth.

"That's gorgeous! Thank you so much! Aren't they the jolliest flowers in
the world for a winter night? Jimps's greenhouses certainly are doing
well. Don't you want a bit of a blossom in your hair? Their grower would
feel tremendously complimented."

"Red's not my colour, but it is yours. Let me tuck this little sprig in
these braids, and I'll risk the grower's being better pleased than if I
wore them."

Georgiana submitted, and promptly forgot all about the scarlet
decoration. But the others did not--found forgetting it, indeed, quite
impossible. As they gathered about the table, it caught