She was a Swiss girl with a meek manner and eyes that belied it. Giant Despair could not see the eyes, and the manner annoyed him.
"If you please,—did you this day order a birthday cake?"
"What? Order what?" cried Giant Despair, turning in great rage to face the unfortunate maid.
She stood her ground. "A cake,—white, with candles of pink."
"Did I order a pink cake? What do you mean by asking such a question? You know I didn't." His frown was terrible.
"Candles of pink," corrected the girl, and holding up her hand she counted, "One, two, three, four, five."
"What is the woman talking about?" demanded Giant Despair.
"De con-fectionaire man bring it. He say it vas for here. He comes not back."
"Then telephone him to send for it at once. Why do you come bothering me about it?"
"We know not who sends it."