Dora had laid the best embroidered linen cloth on the table, set cups and saucers, and brought in the milk and a plateful of bread and butter. It only needed the teapot and the scones and cakes, therefore, to complete the feast.
"I hope you've made enough to go round twice!" said Ursula.
"Beautiful cakes, so rich and brown,
Oh, how quickly you'll go down!
Who for such dainties does not ache?
Cake of the evening, beautiful, beautiful cake!"
sang Phœbe, trying to out-Alice Alice.
"How disgustingly greedy you are! I call it quite indecent. You don't deserve anything, except plain bread and scrape."
Mabel crossed the passage laughing; but as she opened the kitchen door her mirth was changed to mourning. There, with his fore-paws upon the table, stood Raggles, the shaggy yard dog, devouring scones as fast as he could gulp them down his capacious throat. Mabel uttered a cry of dismay, and, catching up the rolling pin, which was the nearest thing at hand, flung it at the intruder, who snatched a last mouthful, and bolted hastily through the back door.
"Oh, Dora! Aldred! Come and see what's happened!" cried poor Mabel, bursting into the sitting-room, oblivious of the fact that a model hostess ought not to air such domestic catastrophes in public. The visitors did not stand on ceremony, however, but seized the opportunity to make a dash for the kitchen, into which they had been longing to peep.
"I never dreamt of Raggles coming in! I thought he was tied up!" wailed Dora.
"We oughtn't to have left the back door open," said Aldred.
"It was so hot; one can't have the place all stuffy! Oh, the wretch! I wish they'd choked him!"