"How could I?" I exclaim, indignantly. "I could not carry more than one plate, and even as it was the gravy was running all about. I was afraid every minute I would be caught. Besides—-"
"Miss Phyllis, Miss Phyllis," comes a sepulchral whisper at the door, accompanied by a faint knock. In the whisper I recognize James. Having taken a precautionary peep through the keyhole, I open the door, and on the threshold discover our faithful friend, a large plate of apples and cream in his hand, and a considerable air of mystery about him.
"Miss Phyllis," he says, in a fine undertone, "cook sent this here to Master Billy; and the mistress says you are to come down at once, as the master has been asking where you all are."
"I am coming," I return; "and tell cook we are awfully obliged to her." Whereupon, having deposited the dainties before Billy, I charge down stairs and into the library; and, having seized hold of the first book I can see, I collect myself, and enter the drawing-room with a sedate air.
"Where have you been?" demands papa, twisting his head round until I wonder his neck doesn't crack.
"In the library, choosing a book."
"What book."
I glance at the volume I carry, and, to my unmitigated horror find it a treatise on surgery.
"It is by Dr. Batly," I murmur, vaguely.
"Come here and let me see it." Trembling, I advance and surrender my book.