laughed. "You needn't bother yourself about that sort of thing. I will attend to the locking up."
She slightly knitted her brows in reflection. "Now then, Ralph," said she, "I am coming to it, and mind, not a word more than I ask for. Have we any horses?"
"We have," he replied.
"How many?"
"Four."
Miriam clasped her hands and looked at her brother with sparkling eyes.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "four horses!"
"Two of them," he began, but she stopped him in an instant.
"Don't tell me another thing," she cried; "I don't want to know what color they are, or anything about them. To-morrow I shall see them for myself. Oh, Ralph, isn't it perfectly wonderful that we should have four horses? I can't stand anything more just now, so please kiss me good-night."
About an hour afterwards Ralph was awakened by a knock at his door.
"Who is there?" he cried.
The door opened a very little way.
"Ralph," said Miriam, through the crack, "is there one of our horses which can be ridden by a lady?"
Ralph's first impulse was to throw a pillow at the door, but he remembered that sisters were different from fellows at school.
"Can't say anything about that until we try," said he; "and now, Miriam, please go to bed and to sleep."
Miriam shut the door and went away, but in her dreams she rode a prancing charger into Miss Stone's schoolyard, and afterwards drove all the girls in a tally-ho.
CHAPTER VI
MRS. TOLBRIDGE'S CALLERS
The next day was a very fine one, and as the roads were now good, and the air mild, Miss Panney thought it was quite time that she should begin to go about and see her friends without depending on the vehicles of other people, so she ordered her little phaeton and her old roan mare, and drove herself to Thorbury to see Mrs. Tolbridge.
"The doctor tells me," said that good lady, "that you take great interest in those young people at Cobhurst."
"Indeed I do," said Miss Panney, sitting up as straight in her easy chair as if it had been a wooden bench with no back; "I have been thinking about him all the morning. He ought to be married."
Mrs. Tolbridge laughed.
"Dear me, Miss Panney," said she, "it is too soon to begin thinking of a wife for the poor fellow. He has not had time to feel himself at home."
"My motto is that it is never too soon to begin, but we won't talk about that. Kitty, you are the worst matchmaker I ever saw."
"I think I made a pretty good match for myself," said the other.
"No, you didn't. The doctor made that, and I helped. You had nothing to do with the preliminary work, which is really the most important."
Mrs. Tolbridge smiled. "I am sure I am very much obliged," she said.
"You ought to be. And now while we are on the subject, let me ask you:
Have you a new cook?"
"I have," replied the other, "but she is worse than the last one."
Miss Panney rose to her feet, and walked across the room.
"Kitty Tolbridge!" she exclaimed, "this is too bad. You're trifling with the greatest treasure a woman can have on this earth—the life of a good husband."
"But what am I to do?" asked Mrs. Tolbridge. "I have tried everywhere, and I can get no one better."
"Everywhere," repeated Miss Panney. "You mean everywhere in Thorbury. You oughtn't to expect to get a decent cook in this little town. You should go to the city and get one. What you want is to keep the doctor well, no matter what it costs. He doesn't look well, and I don't see how he can be well, on the kind of cooking you can get in Thorbury."
Mrs. Tolbridge flushed a little.
"I am sure," she said, "that Thorbury people, for generations and generations, have lived on Thorbury cooking, and they have been just as healthy as any other people."
"Ah, Kitty, Kitty!" exclaimed the old lady, "you forget how things have changed. In times gone by the ladies of the household superintended all the cooking, and did a good deal of it besides; and they brought something into the kitchen that seldom gets into it now, and that is brains. A cook with a complete set of brains might be pretty hard to get, and would cost a good deal of money. But it is your duty, Kitty, to get as good a one as you can. If she has only a tea-cup full of brains, it will be better than none at all. Don't mind the cost. If you have to do it, spend more on cooking, and less on raw material."
This was all Miss Panney had to say on the subject, and shortly she departed.
After brief stops at the post-office and one or two shops, she drove to the abode of the Bannisters. Miss Panney tied her roan to the hitching-post by the sidewalk, and went up the smooth gravel path to the handsome old house, which she had so often visited, to confer on her own affairs and those of the world at large with the father and the grandfather of the present Bannister, attorney-at-law.
She and the house were all that were left of those old days. Even the widow was the second wife, who had come into the family while Miss Panney was away from Thorbury.
Mrs. Bannister was not at home, but Miss Dora was, and that entirely satisfied the visitor. When the blooming daughter of the house came hurrying into the parlor, Miss Panney, who had previously raised two of the window shades, gazed at her earnestly as she saluted her, and nodded her head approvingly. Then the two sat down to talk.
They talked of several things, and very soon of the Cobhurst people.
"Oh, have you seen them?" exclaimed Dora. "I have, but only for a minute at the station, and then I didn't know who they were, though I was told afterward. They seemed to be very nice."
"They are," said Miss Panney. "The girl is bright, and young Mr. Haverley is an exceedingly agreeable gentleman, just the sort of man who should be the owner of Cobhurst. He is handsome, well educated, and spirited. I saw a good deal of him, for I spent the best part of yesterday there. I should say that your brother would find him a most congenial neighbor. There are so few young men hereabout who are worth anything."
"That is true," replied Dora, with a degree of earnestness, "and I know Herbert will be delighted. I am sure he would call if he were here, but he is away, and doesn't expect to be back for a week."
It crossed Miss Panney's mind that a week's delay in a matter of this sort would not be considered a breach of courtesy, but she did not say so.
"It would be friendly if Mrs. Bannister and you were to call on the sister, before long," she remarked.
"Of course we will do it," said Dora, with animation. "I should think a young lady would be dreadfully lonely in that great house, at least at first, and perhaps we can do something for her."
Although Miss Panney had seen Miriam only in bed, she had a strong conviction that she was not yet a young lady, but this, like the other reflection, was not put into words.
It was not noon when Miss Panney left the Bannister house, and the mind of Miss Dora, which had been renewing itself within her with all the vigor and freshness which Dr. Tolbridge had predicted, was at a loss how to occupy itself until dinner-time, which, with the Bannisters and most of the gentlefolk of Thorbury, was at two o'clock.
Dora put on her prettiest hat and her wrap and went out. She wanted to call on somebody and to talk, and suddenly it struck her that she would go and inquire