"Shape? Oh, I see," said Toni a trifle dubiously. "You mean a blanc-mange or a cream. But I don't think it would do for tea."
Maggie thought, respectfully, that it would do fine. In her last place her mistress always had a shape when company was coming to tea. But—suddenly her rosy face grew even more pink—perhaps she was wrong, and anyway Mrs. Rose knew best.
Sorry for the girl's evident embarrassment Toni gave the order forthwith for a cream; and then turned to the subject of dinner.
"Miss Gibbs will stay to dinner, and we will have it at half-past seven. That gives us time to go on the river first; and the cab won't be here till nine."
"Cook's sent you a mennyoo, ma'am." Maggie produced a somewhat crumpled piece of paper. "She thought perhaps something of this sort would do."
Toni ran her eye over the paper, and her brow cleared.
"Soup, fish, sweetbread and green peas, chicken...." she gave the paper back. "Yes, it will do beautifully, and I'm sure Miss Gibbs will like Martha's trifle. Well, Maggie, that's all, I think. Have I forgotten anything?"
The two girls stared at one another for a moment, their faces quite solemn with the effort of concentration. Then Toni relaxed and spoke gaily.
"No, that's all, I'm sure ... well, Maggie, what have you thought of now?"
"Please, ma'am, the flowers."