She was not in good spirits. She had
already found that La Fleur was a woman superior to influences from any
power derived from the wearing of Judith Pacewalk's pink chintz dress.
She was convinced that at this moment that eminent cook was preparing a
dinner for the benefit of the Dranes, without any thought of the tastes
or desires of the mistress of the house or its master. And yet she could
find nothing to say in opposition to this; consequently, she had walked
away unprotesting, and that act was so contrary to her disposition that
it saddened her. If she had supposed that a bad meal would be the result
of the bland autocracy she had just encountered, she would have been
better satisfied; but, as she knew the case would be quite otherwise, her
spirits continued to fall. Even the meat, that morning, had been ordered
without consultation with her.
As Miriam walked dolefully toward the garden gate, Ralph came riding from
Thorbury with the mail-bag, and in it was the letter from Dora.
"Oh, Ralph!" cried Miriam, when, with her young soul glowing in her face,
she thrust the open letter into her brother's hand, "may I go? I never
saw the sea!"
Of Ralph's decision there could be no question, and the Cobhurst family
was instantly in a flurry.
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