“Yes, I will have some mustard, and a beefsteak, and baked beans, please. Mrs. Stores had some on the table to-night.”
By this time Mrs. Stone began to realize that the girl was not accountable for her actions, for never was there a better bit of acting for an amateur. Yet she dared not wake her, for stories of the serious harm which had befallen somnambulists, when wakened suddenly in unfamiliar surroundings, flashed through her brain, and she was nearly beside herself with anxiety.
“What shall I do? what shall I do?” she said aloud in great distress; and, as though in answer to her question, Toinette answered:
“Go, tell Mrs. Stone that she isn’t up to snuff as much as she thinks she is.”
This was too much, and, laying her hand gently on Toinette’s arm, she said, softly:
“My dear child, hadn’t you better come back upstairs with me?”
Without changing her expression, Toinette replied:
“How oats, peas, beans and barley grow, nor you, nor I, nor Mrs. Stone knows,” and began to dance around in a circle with her ham tightly clasped in one arm, and the crackers scattering from one end of the pantry to the other.
Now thoroughly alarmed, and almost in tears, Mrs. Stone said:
“Oh, my dear, dear little girl, won’t you come back to your room with me?” and, grasping hold of Toinette’s arm, endeavored to lead her from the pantry.