"There was a Methodist preacher," she said, spoonful after spoonful of the cold and fruity concoction melting in her mouth as she spoke, "a regular apostle of the poor, named Lorenzo Dow. How I would like to have him here. He was a man who would let people know in trumpet tones, by day and by night, what he thought of wicked, wasteful prodigality, no matter how pleasant it might be, how easy it might be, or how proper in people who could afford it. Is there to be anything more, Kitty Tolbridge?" The doctor's wife could not restrain a little laugh. "No," she said, "there is to be nothing more, unless you will take a little tea." Miss Panney pushed back her chair and looked at her hostess. "Tea after a meal like that! I should think not. If you had had champagne during the luncheon, and coffee afterwards, I shouldn't have been surprised." "I did not order coffee," said Mrs. Tolbridge, "because we don't take it in the middle of the day, but--" "You ordered quite enough," said her visitor, severely; "and I will say this for Kipper, that he never got up a better meal, although--" "Kipper!" interrupted Mrs. Tolbridge. "Kipper had nothing to do with this luncheon. It was prepared by my new cook. It is the first meal she has given us, and I am so sorry the doctor could not be here to eat it." Miss Panney rose from her chair, and gazed earnestly at Mrs. Tolbridge. "What cook?" she asked, in her deepest tones. "Jane La Fleur," was the reply; "the woman you urged me to write to. I sent the letter that afternoon. Yesterday she came to see me, and I engaged her. And while we were at breakfast this morning, she arrived with her boxes, and went to work." "And she cooked that meal? She herself made all those things?" "Yes," said Mrs. Tolbridge, "she even churned the butter and made the biscuit. She says she is going to do a great deal better than this when she gets things in order." "Better than this!" ejaculated Miss Panney. "Do you mean to say, Kitty Tolbridge, that this sort of thing is going to happen three times a day? What have you done? What sort of a creature is she? Tell me all about it this very minute." Mrs. Tolbridge led the way to the parlor, and the two sat down. "Now," said the doctor's wife, "suppose you finish what you were saying about the Methodist church, then--" Miss Panney stamped her foot. "Don't mention them!" she cried. "Let them build tower on tower, spire on spire, crypts, picture galleries, altars, confessionals, if they like. Tell me about your new cook."