"It's an awful heat," said poor Mrs. Thomson to no one in particular. Elizabeth Seton, who had crossed the room to speak to someone, stopped.
"Everything's going beautifully, Mrs. Thomson," she said. "Just look how happy everyone looks; it's a lovely party."
"I'm sure," said Mrs. Thomson, "I'm glad you think so, for it's not my idea of a party. But there, I'm old-fashioned, as Jessie often says. Tell me—d'ye think there's enough to eat?"
Elizabeth Seton laughed. "Enough! Why, there's oceans. Do let me carry some things round. It's time for the sweets, isn't it? May I take a meringue on one plate and some of the trifle on another, and ask which they'll have?"
"I wish you would," said Mrs. Thomson, "for I never think a body gets anything at these stand-up meals." She put a generous helping of trifle on a plate and handed it to Elizabeth. "And mind to say there's chocolate shape as well, and there's a kind of apricot souffley thing too. Papa brought in the pine-apple. Wasn't it real mindful of him?"
"It was indeed," said Elizabeth heartily, as she set off with her plates.
The first person she encountered was Mr. Taylor, skipping about with his fourth cup of tea.
"Too bad, Miss Seton," he cried. "Where are the gentlemen? No, thanks! not that length yet, Jessie," as the daughter of the house passed with a plate of cakes. "Since you're so pressing, I'll take a penny-thing."
"Nice girrl, Jessie," he observed, as that affronted damsel passed on. "Papa well, Miss Seton?"
"Quite well, thank you."