"They are German biscuits, I am sure," I said. "Mother has often told me what nice kinds there are in Germany;" and we set to work to arrange them on the plates which I ran down to ask Sarah for, with the greatest pleasure. We were so happy that we felt able to be a little sorry for Mrs. Partridge.
"I wonder if she's got a sore t'roat," said Tom.
"P'raps she's doin' to die," suggested Racey. "She's so vrezy hold."
"H-old," said I. "Racey, how dreadfully vulgar you are."
"You're vrezy vulgar to be so c'oss," said Racey.
"I don't believe you know what 'vulgar' means," I said.
"No," said Racey, calmly, "I doesn't," and in laughing at him I forgot my c'ossness, though afterwards when I remembered it, I felt really ashamed of having been so sharp upon poor Racey just when we had so many things to be happy about.
Almost immediately after we had got the table really arranged for the last time—we had done it and undone it so often that it was nearly four o'clock before it was quite ready—we heard a carriage stop at the door and then the bell rang, and peeping over the bannisters we heard Benjamin open the front door. Then came a soft rustle of some one coming up-stairs.
"It's her," I cried, rushing back into the nursery. And then we all flew out to the top of the staircase to welcome her. I should have liked to run down to the first landing but I daren't, for as sure as anything Tom and Racey would have been after me, and I was frightened as it was of Tom's catching cold by even coming to the landing.
But she saw our eager faces between the rails before she was half way up. "Have you been waiting long for me, dears?" she said. "I came as quickly as I could."