She made no reference to the object of my visit, and I wondered if she knew just how I came there. A man-servant wheeled in a portable tea-table and placed it beside a particular chair, lighted the lamp under the kettle, and silently departed. And with the stage thus disposed Miss Hollister herself appeared. She greeted me without surprise and much as she might have spoken to any guest in her house. I had sometimes been treated as though I were the agent of a decorator's shop, or a delinquent plumber, by the people whom I served; but Miss Hollister and her niece established me upon a plane that was wholly social. I was made to feel that it was the most natural thing in the world for me to be there, having tea, with no business ahead of me but to be agreeable. The fact that I had come to correct the distemper of their flues was utterly negligible. I remembered with satisfaction that I had journeyed from town in a new business suit that made the best of my attenuated figure, and I will not deny that I felt at ease. Miss Hollister talked briskly as she made the tea. "I was over at the kennels when you came. I believe the kennel-master is a rascal, Cecilia. I have no opinion of him whatever." "He was highly recommended," replied the niece. "It's not his fault that the fox terriers were sick." "I dare say it is n't," said the old lady, measuring the tea; "but it's his fault that he whipped one of those Cuban hounds,--I 'm sure he whipped her. The poor beast was afraid to crawl out when I called her this afternoon." "We were warned against those dogs, Aunt Octavia; but I must admit that they have lovely eyes." Miss Cecilia's manner toward her aunt left nothing to be desired; it was wholly deferential and kind, and her dignity, I surmised, was equal to any emergency that might rise between them. "Do you ever shoot behind traps?" demanded Miss Hollister abruptly. The question surprised me. I did not shoot behind traps or anywhere else, for that matter; but it delighted me to find that her unusual interests, as she had touched upon them at the Asolando, were part of a consistent scheme of life. She talked of her experiments with different guns and traps, her arms folded, her eyes reverting occasionally to the kettle. It was all in the shells, she said. Before she had begun filling her own cartridges she had no end of trouble.