"Don't shoot," begged the Unwelcome One. "I'll come down. Or," he asked anxiously, "can you see the whites of my eyes?"
I laughed. I couldn't help it. The situation was so perfectly ridiculous. And so, we laughed together.
Sarah, beaming, appeared with tea and cookies and cake.
"Please pour," I said to Dr. Denton, "and please have some of your own cake. Thank you," I added carefully, "for sending it to us."
"Oh, I didn't send it," he answered cheerfully, manipulating china and silver with dexterity. "It was Adeline's thought. Merely, she asked my permission."
"Oh!" I said, in a small voice, and accepted a cup of tea.
Dr. Denton fed Wiggles cake, and engaged him in loud conversation.
I scalded my throat on tea, and promptly dropped the cup. This, at least, created some diversion. Dr. Denton sprang up, scattering Wiggles, cups, napkins, and spoons with equal indifference, and mopped up the deluge.
"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, in quite an agonized tone.
"No," I replied, dripping, "but I have burned my throat most awfully. I'm afraid I shan't be able to talk for quite a while."