in her dashing clothes. He had the sensation of being a butler in a great house. He swelled his chest grandly and his voice deepened to an organ-like sonorousness, as he repeated:
"Mrs. Masters' compliments to Miss Phillips. Mrs. Bye, send a maid to find Miss Phillips."
The cook was making scones for tea. She felt flustered at this formidable arrival, and stood with the pan of sweet-smelling hot cakes in her hands, while her lashless blue eyes blinked excitedly.
"May's out. At least, she's not well. She's in the scullery. Queenie, run and tell May there's a lady to call."
"May goh a poah tooh," whined Queenie.
Cook ran to the scullery herself (Annie, Pearl, and Delight were snatching a nap), and said:
"Goodness me, it's your cousin's wife, May, and you so out of sorts. That's always the way. Don't do your hair of an afternoon, and a partic'lar caller comes." She still held the hot pan of scones, and Queenie, standing on tiptoe, was able to snatch one, with an inarticulate exclamation of glee. She danced about the women, tossing the hot cake from one hand to the other, blowing on her burned fingers.
"My word," said her mother, "if I slapped your hands till they tingled like that we'd hear some whimpering."
May said casually: "Send 'er out 'ere."
"All right," returned Mrs. Bye, and loped back to the kitchen. "May'll be pleased to see you," she told Ada who was uneasily shifting from one foot to the other. "She's resting a bit easier. She's in the back sitting-room. Queenie, lead Mrs. Masters in."
Queenie pranced ahead, holding her scone aloft. "Miha Maha," she announced shrilly.
