"Excellent!" said the Rev. Charles, smacking his lips. "If there's one thing Mrs. Jex does better than another, where all is well done, it's hot buttered crumpets."
"They're not at all a bit heavy?"
"Heavy? Light as snowflakes--hot buttered snowflakes! That's what they are. How do you find them, Jack?"
"Fine!"
"I am glad. I was afraid they'd turn out a bit----"
"You don't mean to tell me you made them!"
"Yes, I did. All myself--with Mrs. Jex just looking on, you know!"
"Well! Two more, please, just like the last! Best crumpets I ever tasted in my life!"
And so they were--because Gracie made them; and the Rev. Charles would have pledged himself to that though they had choked him and given him indigestion for life. He had a pretty bad night of it--but that might have been the coffee,--but most likely it was Jim.
For presently they all set off in the riotous wind, Gracie skipping joyfully in the pride of accomplishment, and went first to Carne, hopeful of finding Jim there. But Mrs. Lee greeted their inquiry with a tart: