“That’s easy,” said Patty, and turning to a near-by muffin-stand, she took a plate of hot, buttered ones, and offered them to young Oram; “have a muffin?”
“Indeed I will, they’re very entertaining. Have you ever noticed how wonderful the Markleham muffins are? I get such nowhere else. Why is that, I wonder?”
Lady Kitty, who was waiting by, answered this herself.
“Because at large and formal teas,” she said, “muffins are not served; and if one’s friends drop in unexpectedly, muffins are rarely ready. It is my aim in life to have just so many people to tea as will justify muffins without prohibiting them.”
“At last I understand why the teas at this house are always perfection,” said Oram, rising for a moment as Lady Kitty moved away.
A newcomer had arrived, and Patty, looking up, saw Floyd Austin’s grave face in the doorway.
“Owing to the inclemency of the weather, the starving people gathered in the billiard-room to partake of that nourishment which was to keep them alive until the dinner hour.”
He said this in an impersonal, reading-aloud sort of voice, which seemed to Patty extremely funny.
“He’s always doing that,” said Flo Carrington; “sometimes he’s screamingly droll.”