She followed him with a great assumption of carelessness--which, unfortunately, there was no one to see--down the stairs and into a little screened porch, where a willow table was laid. She was impressed by what she saw, but not astonished, for she was prepared for the utmost luxury. In fact, she couldn’t have been astonished, no matter what she had seen, so greatly did the marvels of which she had read in the Sunday papers exceed any possible reality. On the table stood a copper coffee percolator, shining in the sun like gold, and steaming softly; a nickel chafing-dish, bright as silver; cut-glass cream-jugs and sugar-bowls like diamonds; and a cloth of hemstitched linen. There were little willow chairs with chintz cushions drawn up before each place, and sweet fresh flowers. She was in no way disappointed. She sat down opposite the young man, resolved to do exactly as he did. He unfolded an immense napkin, then picked up the morning paper, and for a few minutes studied the Wall Street news intently. Then, as the servant entered, he laid the paper down and sat immovable while she drew him a steaming cup of coffee, prepared it, and put before him a cantaloupe cut into halves and filled with ice. "Bring this young lady’s breakfast, if you please," he said, frowning again. "Now, then, miss--what is your name?" he asked Angelica, when the maid had left the room. "Kennedy--Angelica Kennedy." "Miss Kennedy, I was speaking to my mother about you last night. I felt that it wasn’t at all the thing to--for her to have engaged you as a companion. You’re not qualified. It’s not fair to Mrs. Geraldine, and it’s not fair to you. You couldn’t fill such a position." He spoke with decision, with authority, but not in the least unkindly. He spoke in the manner which his business training had given him; and Angelica accepted it in the manner she had learned from her factory experience. He was arbitrary and supreme; useless for her to complain, to resent. She didn’t even trouble to think whether he was just or not; simply, she was "fired." "All right," she said, without emotion. "Now," he said, "if you wish to remain in another capacity--if you wish to be Mrs. Russell’s maid----” "No, I don’t." "That’s for you to decide, of course; but it’s a pleasant, easy position, and the pay is better." "I’m not thinking so much about pay. I could have got plenty of jobs that would have paid twice as much as this. Only----” "Why did you want this?" he asked, with interest. "Well, I thought I’d----” Her dark face flushed. "I want to learn--nice ways. I want to get on. I don’t want to be--like I am, all my life." "You’re perfectly right!" he said, looking at her. "I’m glad to see you’re ambitious; but why choose this sort of way to get on? Why don’t you try to get into a good office?" She shook her head.