I've got one made and
locked up in the larder."
"That's all right," said William. "I--wanted them to have a cream
blanc-mange, that's all."
"Oh, _they'll_ have it all right; they won't leave much for you. I
only made _one_!"
"Did you say locked in the larder?" said William carelessly. "It must
be a bother for you to _lock_ the larder door each time you go in?"
"Oh, no trouble, Master William, thank you," said cook sarcastically;
"there's more than the cream blanc-mange there; there's pasties and
cakes and other things. I'm thinking of the last party your ma gave!"
William had the grace to blush. On that occasion William and a friend
had spent the hour before supper in the larder, and supper had to be
postponed while fresh provisions were beaten up from any and every
quarter. William had passed a troubled night and spent the next day in
bed.
"Oh, _then_! That was a long time ago. I was only a kid then."
"Umph!" grunted cook. Then, relenting, "Well, if there's any cream
blanc-mange left I'll bring it up to you in bed. Now that's a promise.
Here, Emma, put these sandwiches in the larder. Here's the key! Now
mind you _lock it_ after you!"
"Cook! Just come here for a minute."
It was the voice of William's mother from the library. William's heart
rose. With cook away from the scene of action great things might
happen. Emma took the dish of sandwiches, unlocked the pantry door,
and entered.
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