for that morning's class, and had requested his mother to send a cup of tea into the study. Polly volunteered to carry it: she must be busy about something, look after somebody. The cup was entrusted to her: for, if restless, she was also careful. As the study was opposite the breakfast-room, the doors facing across the passage, my eye followed her.
"What are you doing?" she asked, pausing on the threshold.
"Writing," said Graham.
"Why don't you come to take breakfast with your mama?"
"Too busy."
"Do you want any breakfast?"
"Of course."
"There then."
And she deposited the cup on the carpet, like a jailer putting a prisoner's pitcher of water through his cell-door, and retreated. Presently she returned.
"What will you have besides tea—what to eat?"
"Anything good. Bring me something particularly nice; that's a kind little woman."
She came back to Mrs. Bretton.
