The first occasion for Angelina to make herself spectacularly useful came on the Saturday after New Year's, when Mrs. Stratford invited Priscilla and Mrs. Tilworth to dine. The latter had already shown Mrs. Stratford some little courtesies, such as she felt were due Mrs. Blair's cousin. On account of Martine's growing fondness for Priscilla, Mrs. Stratford was anxious to have the two households on more intimate terms. Lucian and Robert Pringle were also coming home to dinner, and although Mrs. Tilworth was the only outsider, on her account a certain amount of formality had been planned for this little dinner for six. At about four o'clock on the afternoon Angelina knocked at the door of Martine's room. Her face wore its most solemn expression. "Why, Angelina, what is the matter? You look as if you had been drawn through a keyhole." Angelina at first did not reply. "There, there, speak out! Is it anything very dreadful?" Martine rose from her little desk, where she had been writing a letter to her father, and as she took a step or two toward the door, Angelina spoke. "That depends on how you look on it; it's only that the cook's gone." "Gracious! you don't mean it. But perhaps she has only gone for a walk--" "Oh, no, Miss Martine. I fear that she's gone for good and all. I've been down to her room, and not a vestige of her possessions remains." Angelina, even in a crisis, had to use long words. "In fact I may say that I heard her trunk being carried away about two o'clock. There it went, thumpity, thump down the stairs--those expressmen are so careless, and I was quite unaware whose trunk it was, or I might have reported it to your mother. But when the luncheon dishes were washed, the cook followed the trunk; at least she is nowhere in sight now, and not a thing done about this evening's dinner. It's the dinner, and not the cook that disturbs me," explained Angelina. "The dinner! I should say so," responded Martine. "We must get word to Mrs. Tilworth at once. She's the fussiest old--I mean she's a very particular person, and mother wishes everything to be just so when she dines here." "Of course, Miss Martine. Every guest of Mrs. Stratford's should receive the greatest consideration." Angelina's manner was respectful in the extreme. "Dear me!" Martine's perplexity showed itself in her wrinkled forehead. "I certainly don't know what's to be done. Mamma and Mrs. Tilworth were to come home together from a meeting in Brookline. Mrs. Tilworth is always taking people to meetings of some kind. Poor mamma didn't want to go, but she couldn't get out of it. There's no way of getting word to them until nearly dinner time. Mrs. Tilworth would think it awfully rude to uninvite her. The only thing is to let her come, and then we can all go out to a hotel or something, and she'll call that very shiftless."