and stuffing, and stuffing away at _our_ food all night! I don't
suppose they'll leave much--not if I know the set that lives round
here!"

"Don't judge them all by yourself, Master William," said cook
unkindly, keeping a watchful eye upon him. "Here, Emma, put that
rice-mould away in the pantry. It's for to-morrow's lunch."

Rice-mould! That reminded him.

"Cook," he said ingratiatingly, "are you going to make cream
blanc-mange?"

"I am _not_, Master William," she said firmly.

"Well," he said, with a short laugh, "it'll be a queer party without
cream blanc-mange! I've never heard of a party without cream
blanc-mange! They'll think it's a bit funny. No one ever gives a party
round here without cream blanc-mange!"

"Don't they indeed, Master William," said cook, with ironic interest.

"No. You'll be making one, p'raps, later on--just a little one, won't
you?"

"And why should I?"

"Well, I'd like to think they had a cream blanc-mange. I think they'd
enjoy it. That's all I'm thinking of."