Sarah brought a small table to the side of the bed. "Miss Julia, she
done send some message 'bout this 'ere cake, Miss P'tricia; but, law
o' mercy, I'se clean forgot the most 'portant word. Hit were something
'bout you-uns having had a fat-fat-"

"Fatiguing day?" Patricia suggested, taking little anticipatory pickings
at the corners of the shortcake.

Sarah nodded her turbaned head. "Where's you-un been all day, Miss
P'tricia?" she enquired, severely.

"If you don't mind, Sarah--I'm very hungry and tired--I won't go into
that at present. I had something very important to see to."

"Humph!" Sarah grunted. "Nice doings, worrying your pore aunt near to
'straction--the doctor, he ain't come home to dinner--to hear 'bout your
carryings-on. What you think he's goin' say--when Miss Julia tells him?"

Patricia was absorbed in eating bread and milk. "It must be dreadful to
be really starved, Sarah," she observed.

"Where you get your dinner, Miss P'tricia?"

"I didn't have any," Patricia answered.

"My sakes!" Further speech failed Sarah. She turned away.

Patricia's next visitor was old Cæsar. Standing by the bed, he asked as
plainly as dog may what in the world she was doing there at that time