But what Marjory failed to write down, she repeated to herself half aloud: “It is all very well for Billy to say, ‘Don’t make any difference for Mrs. Coates; I particularly want her to take us as we are, and I’m sure she also would prefer it;’ the question is, would she? Luncheon ‘just as we are’ for Friday would be the peas and beans left from Thursday’s dinner added to lettuce for a salad, bread and butter, raspberries, and iced tea. “Mrs. Coates will arrive at ten-thirty, then we will drive around by the Cortrights’; by one she will be hungry, and I must at least add meat or chicken to the menu; which shall it be? I think I’ll consult June.” So saying, Marjory, glad of an excuse to talk to some one, went to the kitchen porch, where sat that comfortable old aunty, rocking, fanning, and crooning hymns to herself, and there laid the case before her. Ah, little imps that sometimes climb up aloft and grin at those who, mistaking you for cherubs, take your advice, why did it happen that the master of the house was called away at this particular juncture? “Missus Coates am sure one ob de quality, honey,” said June, unfolding and setting in place her silver-bowed spectacles, even though it was dark, and instantly being seized with a flow of language. “If she’s real quality, I don’t allow it’s showin’ right ’spect and dignification to Marsa Rod’s Bosses’s Missus to feed her with cole vittles on the back stoop like she was hounds, even if you-all do like the airyation and simplification ob it your two selves. “Lor’, Miss Margy, do dress out de house a bit, and fetch out dem weddin’ gifts dat outshun all de glories ob Solomon and was hid away so quick dat folks hadn’t got through blinkin’ at ’em. Spread Missus Coates a banquet ter bulge her eyes, and old June’ll do some tall cookin’. Den sweep down dem stairs to fetch her in with a long-trailed skirt out behind and a real lace hankerchief stuck in front just soppin’ with perfummery. I tell you, Miss Margie, when Marsa Rod’s pa and ma down Baltimore way done entertained the governor and his lady—” But at this introduction to a recitation of Juno’s that was warranted to last an hour in its most abridged form, Marjory interrupted her with, “I’ll think it over and decide to-morrow; at least you shall make your stuffed peppers and Creole chicken,” and then she fled to her own room and locked the door. Sleeping was an empty ceremony that night; instead, Marjory devised plans for Mrs. Coates’s entertainment. By morning, all the pleasure and originality of their daily life had apparently vanished, and Marjory had resolved to leave her own coign of vantage and meet Mrs. Coates more than halfway.