"Lead us to the—mush," said Flame.
In another instant the door-knob turned in his hand, and the cheerful kitchen lamp-light,—glitter of tinsel,—flare of red ribbons,—savor of foods, smote sharply on him.
"Oh, I say, how jolly!" cried the Lay Reader.
"Don't let me bump into anything!" begged the blindfolded Flame, still holding tight to his hand.
"Oh, I say, Miss Flame," kindled the entranced Lay Reader, "it's you that look the jolliest! All in white that way! I've never seen you wear that to church, have I?"
"This is a pinafore," confided Flame coolly. "A bungalow apron, the fashion papers call it.... No, you've never seen me wear—this to church."
"O—h," said the Lay Reader.
"Get the mush," said Flame.
"The what?" asked the Lay Reader.
"It's there on the table by the window," gestured Flame. "Please set all four dishes on the floor,—each dish, of course, in a separate corner," ordered Flame. "There is a reason.... And then open the parlor door."