Lucy, indeed, had
offered Mrs. Jasher the services of Cockatoo to hand round the
wine, but the widow with a pretty shudder had declined.
"That dreadful creature with his yellow mop of hair gives me the
shivers," she declared.
Considering the isolation of the district, and the narrow limits
of Mrs. Jasher's income, the meal was truly, admirable, being
well cooked and well served, while the table was arrayed like an
altar for the reception of the various dishes. Whatever Mrs.
Jasher might be as an adventuress, she certainly proved herself
to be a capital housekeeper, and Lucy foresaw that, if she did
become Mrs. Braddock, the Professor would fare sumptuously, for
the rest of his scientific life. When the meal was ended the
widow produced a box of superfine cigars and another of
cigarettes, after which she left the gentlemen to sip their wine,
and took her two young friends to chatter chiffons in the tiny
parlor. And it said much for Mrs. Jasher's methodical ways that,
considering the limited space, everything went--as the saying
goes--like clockwork. Likewise, the widow had proved herself a
wonderful hostess, as she kept the ball of conversation rolling
briskly and induced a spirit of fraternity, uncommon in an
ordinary dinner party.
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