“Girls,” she said, in her best teacher voice, “Mr. Sanders has called to see if we can fill an order for him.”
“An order!” chorused the surprised pupils.
“Yes,” spoke up the one man among them. “The fact is, young ladies, I’m giving a little party up at Waterfall House, and I felt convinced that my attractions would be greatly increased if I could procure some—some confections from this famous little class,” he said.
Miss Manners was all but protesting. That her class could be called “famous” seemed to her rather too extravagant a statement.
“Yes, indeed,” went on the caller, while it must be admitted some of the girls were stifling giggles. “My daughter is coming up, and she thinks her college excels in this sort of thing.” His sweeping gesture seemed to include everything, even the girls. “And I would be mighty glad to show her what we can do in our little Long Leigh.”
Followed suggestions and questions, so heaped up that the mere wording of all the excitement amounted to little compared with its general effect. Finally, Mr. Sanders and Miss Manners went into a secret session, to outline the order, and the girls, who were supposed to go on with the lesson, in reality went on with the fun.
“Imagine!” chuckled Eleanor Dixon, “getting an order for fancy cakes! I’m going to make kisses—”
“Lady fingers would be more appropriate,” Isabel remarked sagely, “although, El, I have heard Miss Manners say, your biscuits are—splendid.”
“Tarts!” whispered Christine, shaking her long handled spoon, and making a comical face.
“Mac-a-roons!” came from Dorothy’s corner.