dainty table, with the two children, and being waited on by Annette's one servant, a neat, hard-featured creature, who knew how to cook.
The Senator was worth millions, had a French chef, and a chronic dyspepsia, but he spoke truly when he told Annette he had not enjoyed a dinner so much in years as the one she gave him. It was very simple, but good, and well served. The children never opened their mouths except when spoken to. Annette was surprised, as at Constance Maitland's dinner, to find herself altogether at ease, and was conscious that she was making an agreeable impression every moment of the time. To be appreciated gives the most timid confidence; and it was perfectly evident that this trained man of the world appreciated this woman, as sweet and natural as the wild roses that grew in the roadside hedges. They found much to talk about, and Thorndyke was mentioned, at which Annette overflowed in praises of him, to which Senator Bicknell agreed.
He was much amused by Annette's impromptu plan of having a reception for him that afternoon, and accused her of aspiring to be a second
