You are very kind, and I don't know how to thank you," said Florence;
"but how can you possibly tell that I have ruffled feelings?"

"See them in your brow, my dear: observe them in your face. I am not a
medical student for nothing. I tell you you are anaemic and neurotic;
indeed, your nerves have reached a rare state of irritability. At the
present moment you are in quite a crux, and do not know what to do. Oh,
I am a witch--I am quite a witch; I can read people through and through;
but I like you, my dear. You are vastly more interesting to me because
you are in a crux, and neurotic and anaemic. Now then, look at your dear
lady moon, and let me make the cocoa in peace."

"What an extraordinary girl!" thought Florence to herself; "but I
suppose I like her. She is so fearfully downright, I feel almost afraid
of her."

Miss Franks darted here and there, busy with her cooking. After a time,
with a little sigh of excitement, Florence saw her put the extinguisher
on the spirit-lamp. She then hastily lit the lamp with the green shade,
and, placing it on the table where the verbena and the sweetbriar and
mignonette gave forth such intoxicating odours, she laid a cup of
steaming frothy cocoa by Florence's side, and a plate of biscuits not
far off.

"Now then, eat, drink, and be thankful," said Miss Franks. "I love cocoa
at this hour. Yours is made entirely of milk, so it will be vastly
nourishing. I am going to enjoy my cup also."

She flung herself into the straw chair lined with cushions, and took her
own supper daintily and slowly. While she ate, her bright eyes kept
darting about the room noting everything, and from time to time
fastening themselves with the keenest penetration on Florence's flushed
face.

Florence felt that never in the whole course of her life had she enjoyed
anything more than that cup of cocoa.

When the meal was finished Miss Franks jumped up and began to wash the
cups and saucers.

"You must let me help you," said Florence. She sprang very determinedly
to her feet. "I have done these things over and over for mother at
home," she said, "and I really must wash my own cup and saucer."

"You shall wipe, and I will wash," said Miss Franks. "I don't at all
mind being helped. Division of labour lightens toil, does it not? There,
take that tea-towel; it is a beauty, is it not? It is Russian."

It was embroidered at each edge with wonderful stitches in red, and was
also trimmed with heavy lace.