Bassett, gloomily pacing his veranda, after hearing his wife's arraignment of the world in general and domestic servants in particular, felt the clouds lift when Sylvia came down from a voluntary visit to the invalid.

He watched her attack the problem by long-distance telephone.

Sensations that were new and strange and sweet assailed him as he sat near in the living-room of his own house, seeing her at the telephone desk by the window, hearing her voice.

Her patience in the necessary delays while connection was made with the city, her courtesy to her unseen auditors, the smile, the occasional word she flung at him--as much as to say, of course it's bothersome but all will soon come right!--these things stirred in him a wistfulness and longing such as the hardy oak must feel when the south wind touches its bare boughs with the first faint breath of spring.
"It's all arranged--fixed--accomplished!" Sylvia reported at last.
"There's a cook coming by the afternoon train.

You'll attend to meeting her?
Please tell Mrs.Bassett it's Senator Ridgefield's cook who's available for the rest of the summer, as the family have gone abroad.
She's probably good--the agent said Mrs.Ridgefield had brought her from Washington.