"Miss Doane sent them to you with her love. She said that it was her
baking day, and that she had made them herself. The cookies are for
the children to slip in their apron pockets and eat at recess,"
recited the butler with an immobile face.

Mrs. Cairns raised the napkins and surveyed the cakes; then she
looked at her husband and her guests. They laughed; that is, the
guests did, but not Mr. Cairns.

"Take them to the kitchen, John," Mrs. Cairns ordered. "The servants
may have them."

"No; bring them here, John," Mr. Cairns said sharply. "You may go
and say that Mrs. Cairns thanks Miss Doane very much for her
thoughtfulness in remembering her on her baking day, and that she is
sure she will enjoy the doughnuts--and the cookies will be given to
the children."

The servant left the room, and Mr. Cairns sat very quietly looking
at the plates before him. He took up one of the doughnuts, studied
it, then finally took a bite of it.

"Hot," he said, "and crispy."

He was quiet a moment, with a far away look in his eye; then, as if
noticing the silence of his guests, he said with a quiet laugh:

"It takes me back--back--. Bless her old soul! I understand. And it
takes me back--and--well, I'm a boy again and I can see Mother
standing over the stove, and I can smell the hot cakes when I come in