mornings for orders for the day, and she confided to Daphne that she
didn't know what to tell her. Daphne interviewed the housekeeper
privately and then said to Drusilla, "I have seen Mrs. Perrine and
told her that she doesn't need to come to you in the morning, as she
understands what is to be done. If there is anything special, you
will tell her, but you are not to be bothered with the details of the
house now. After a while, perhaps, you will care to attend to some of
the things, and tell her what you would like; but don't let it worry
you until you get used to it all. I told the chef, too, that he need
not send up the menu for the day, as he did to Mr. Doane."

Miss Thornton could not know how thankful Drusilla was for this last
order, as the consideration of the menu had been a great
embarrassment to her. It was written in French--a language quite
unknown to Drusilla--and although she could not read the names of the
marvelous creations of the cook, the food delighted her and the
quiet, skilful service was always a wonder. The mechanism of the
great household seemed to move with almost a machine's precision, and
she felt that she was in a world that revolved to the order of unseen
hands.

She had been in her new home but a few days when a card was brought
her, and she read on it: _Thomas Carney, The New York Times_. She
went to the library, wondering what some strange man could want with
her. She found a very quick, alert young man, with twinkling blue
eyes, who rose to greet her. She gave him her hand and asked him to
be seated. He sat down, and then question after question was asked
Drusilla. What relation she was to Elias Doane? Had she ever known
him? How she had passed her life; the details of the life in the
Doane home; how many years she had been there? Her impressions of her