"Well, what of it?"
Freddie could not understand very well what they were saying after that, except that he was concerned in it somehow, until he heard Aunt Amanda say:
"You'd better ask his mother, then."
"Young man," said Mr. Toby, "if I write a letter to your ma, will you give it to her?"
"Yes, sir," said Freddie, whereupon Mr. Toby sat down at the other side of the table, with pen and paper and ink, and commenced to write.
"First," said Aunt Amanda, "there's some of that fruit-cake from last Christmas still in the—"
"Right you are!" cried Toby, jumping up and going out into the kitchen.
Freddie ate the fruit-cake, sitting on a hassock at Aunt Amanda's feet, while Toby went on with his letter, but in the midst of it Toby went out again, and finally came back with a tall glass of ice-cold lemonade.
"Don't you go and spill it on the carpet," said he, as he sat down to his writing.