Supper at the mansion was always a rather stiff and formal affair, but on this evening the tension was somewhat relaxed. The Misses Gates chatted pleasantly with the girls, making them feel entirely at their ease. The table had been laid with an elaborately embroidered tablecloth, of good quality but slightly yellowed with age. The dishes, the cut glass, and the silver were of the best. Two tall candles in pewter holders lighted the room. Cora Sully, fairly presentable in white cap and apron, brought the food in from the kitchen, but she served it in an indifferent fashion. “Cora really is an excellent cook,” Iris said half apologetically, when the woman had returned to the kitchen. “Yes, indeed,” Doris agreed quickly. She had no fault to find with the supper, for the creamed chicken was delicious, the biscuits light, the salad crisp and fresh. It was only that she had taken a dislike to Cora and wondered why the Misses Gates kept such a slouchy, sullen woman. “Mrs. Sully has been with us for some time,” Iris continued. “She was the daughter of our former dressmaker, but she married a man that was no good. Undoubtedly he means well but he is shiftless, and finds it hard to obtain work. We took them both in.” “I see,” Doris murmured. She scarcely knew what to reply, and Kitty was leaving the burden of the conversation to her. Mrs. Sully cleared away the dishes and appeared with the dessert, a steaming rich pudding which she placed before Azalea, who served it upon individual plates. “Iris and I seldom indulge ourselves when we are here alone,” Azalea remarked, “but we remember how young girls like sweets.” “I’m afraid you have gone to a great deal of trouble on our account,” Doris said. “Not at all,” Azalea assured her. “It is a pleasure to have you here. We have so few visitors.” It seemed to Doris, who chanced to be watching Mrs. Sully, that an irritated expression passed over her face. “_She_ doesn’t like it because we are here,” Doris thought. “Probably thinks we’ll make her more work!” She picked up her dessert spoon, but before she could start eating her pudding, there came an unexpected interruption. A loud barking and growling grated upon the ears of the diners. Doris and Kitty exchanged guilty glances. It was Wags! “Gracious!” Iris murmured. “What can be the matter?” Embarrassed, Kitty looked down at her plate. “I’m so sorry,” Doris apologized, “but I’m afraid it must be Wags.” “Wags?” Azalea asked, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Doris nodded unhappily. “He’s the cutest little brown dog you ever saw—I know you’ll just love him! Kitty and I picked him up on the road this afternoon and brought him along. We didn’t want to leave him out in the storm, so we tied him up under the porch. I don’t know what set him off like that.” Before either of the women could reply, Wags again let out a series of savage yelps and Doris heard the sound of a man’s voice. Hastily, she pushed back her chair.