Presently, in he came, his head well thrown back, and bearing a huge silver
tray. On it were a decanter, two little queer-shaped glasses, and a plate
of very thin seed cakes. He deposited this on a spindle-legged table, which
he drew up in front of his mistress, and, with another glance, which he
intended to be very withering, cast upon Rachel, but which she didn't see
at all, he departed.
"Now, my dear," said Miss Parrott, in a lighter tone, feeling quite in her
element while serving refreshments in such an elegant way, "you must be
very hungry." She poured out a glassful from the decanter, and getting out
of her chair, she took up the plate of seed cakes, and advanced to the
small figure. "Here, child."
Rachel took the little queer-shaped glass, but had no sooner felt it within
her hand, than she gave a loud scream.
"Take it away, it smells just like Gran"--pushing it from her.
It knocked against the plate of seed cakes Miss Parrott was proffering, and
together they fell to the floor with a crash. In hurried the butler.
"I don't know what can be the matter," Miss Parrott was gasping, her hand
on her heart, as she leaned against one of the ancient cabinets of which
the apartment seemed to be full.
"It smells just like Gran," Rachel was repeating, with flashing eyes. "Oh,
how dare you give it to me!" She was standing over the wreck of the
priceless china and glass, which, as no such accidents had been recorded in
the family, Miss Parrott had continued to use in the entertainment of her
guests.
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