Judy was telling the episode of the ice-box. She told it well, and in spite of herself Nannie had to laugh.
"When I went in there were salads to right of me, cold tongue to the left of me, and roast chicken in front of me," said Judy, gesticulating dramatically, "and I was so hungry that it seemed too good to be true that Perkins should have provided all of those things. And just then the door slammed and my match went out—and there I was in the cold and the dark—and I just screamed for Anne."
"Why didn't you put the latch up when you went in?" asked Nannie, scornfully. "It seems to me 'most anybody would have thought of that."
Anne came eagerly to her friend's defence.
"Neither of us knew it was a spring latch," she said, "and I was as surprised as Judy was."
"Why didn't you eat up all the things?" asked Amelia, as she helped herself to another chocolate.
"I didn't have any light—" began Judy.
"Well, I should have eaten them up in the dark," mused Amelia, as
Perkins passed her the salted almonds for the sixth time.
"It was a good thing I didn't," laughed Judy, "or you wouldn't have had anything to eat to-day. Would they, Perkins?"
For once in his life Perkins was in an affable mood. The lunch had gone off well, there had been no spiders in the cream or red ants in the cake. The coffee had been hot and the salads cold, and now that lunch was over he could pack the dishes away to be washed by the servants at home, and rest on his laurels.