[Illustration: _Scene from the Play_ OLIVIA HEARS OF HER FATHER'S CRITICAL ILLNESS _Act II_] "Unless he has himself some interest in her." "Ah," said Tucker, with a deep sigh, "that's the question." At this moment Miss Falkener, looking very handsome in a sapphire-colored dress, came in. She, too, perhaps, had expected that somebody would be dressed a little ahead of time for the sake of a few minutes' private talk. If so, she was disappointed. "Ah, Cora," said her mother brightly, "let us hear how the piano sounds. Give us some of that delightful Chopin you were playing last evening." Cora, to show her independence of spirit, sat down and began to play ragtime, but neither of her auditors noticed the difference. "You mean," whispered Mrs. Falkener, "that you have reason to suppose that Crane himself--?" "Why, to be candid, my dear lady," replied Tucker, "I did tell him. You may have noticed I seemed a trifle abstracted at tea time. I was considering what it was best to do. Well, when you left us, I told him. What do you think he said? 'Lucky dog.' That was all. Just 'lucky dog.'" "Meaning you?" "No, no, meaning the fellow who had been kissing the cook." "Dear me," said Mrs. Falkener, "how very light minded." "It shocked me--to have him take it like that. And he would not hear of dismissing her. He intends merely to reprove her, so he says. But what reproof is possible? And the most alarming feature of the whole situation is that, to my opinion, he is looking forward to the interview." "The woman must be sent out of the house immediately," said Mrs. Falkener with decision. "I wonder if higher wages would tempt her?" "I see your idea," answered Tucker. "You think I ought to offer a position. I would do more than that to save Burt." "A position as cook, you mean?" "Why, Mrs. Falkener, what else could I mean?" "Oh, nothing, Solon, I only thought--" The friends were still explaining away the little misunderstanding when Crane came down, and dinner was announced. Mrs. Falkener, with of course the heartiest wish to criticize, was forced to admit the food was perfection. The soup so clear and strong, the fried fish so dry and tender, even the cheese soufflé, for which she had waited most hopefully, turned out to be beautifully light and fluffy. Having come to curse she was obliged to bless; and her praise was delightful to Crane. "Yes, isn't she a wonder?" he kept saying. "Wasn't it great luck to find any one like that in a place such as this? Tuck, here, keeps trying to poison my mind against her, but I wouldn't part with a cook like that even if she were a Messalina." Mrs. Falkener, who couldn't on the instant remember who Messalina was, attempted to look as if she thought it would be better not to mention such people in the presence of her daughter.