rustled about the tea-table to a tune that quenched the voice of summer. It left undisturbed, however, for awhile, Mrs. Beever's meditations; that lady was thoughtfully occupied in wrapping up Doctor Ramage's doll. "Do you know, Manning, what has become of Miss Armiger?" she at last inquired.
"She went, ma'am, near an hour ago, to the pastrycook's."
"To the pastrycook's?"
"She had heard you wonder, ma'am, she told me, that the young ladies' birthday-cake hadn't yet arrived."
"And she thought she'd see about it? Uncommonly good of her!" Mrs. Beever exclaimed.
"Yes, ma'am, uncommonly good."
"Has it arrived, then, now?"
"Not yet, ma'am."
"And Miss Armiger hasn't returned?"
"I think not, ma'am."
Mrs. Beever considered again. "Perhaps she's waiting to bring it."
Manning indulged in a proportionate pause.
"Perhaps, ma'am—in a fly. And when it comes, ma'am, shall I fetch it out?"
