At half past eight on the morning indicated, Amarilly's ring at the door
of the studio was answered by Derry, whose face was covered with lather.

"Hello, Amarilly!" he exclaimed heartily, extending his hand in genial
comradeship. "I am glad to see you again. Been pretty well through the
summer? Well, come on into the butler's pantry, and see what you can do
in a coffee way while I finish shaving."

Amarilly had been receiving instruction in domestic science, including
table service, at the Guild school. Colette, interested in the studio
work, had provided some minute muslin aprons and a little patch of linen
for the head covering of the young waitress, advising her that she must
wear them while serving breakfast. So when Derry emerged from his
dressing-room, a trimly equipped little maid stood proudly and anxiously
awaiting him.

"Why, bless your heart, Amarilly! I feel really domesticated. You look
as natty as a new penny, and the little white cap is great on your hair.
I see you have remembered how to fix it."

"Thank you, Mr. Derry, but please sit down while your coffee is hot."

"'Deed I will, and if it tastes as good as it smells, I shall raise your
remuneration."

He pronounced the coffee delicious, the grapefruit fixed to his liking,
the toast crisp, and the eggs boiled just to the right consistency.