except plain bread and scrape."

Mabel crossed the passage laughing; but as she opened the kitchen door
her mirth was changed to mourning. There, with his fore-paws upon the
table, stood Raggles, the shaggy yard dog, devouring scones as fast as
he could gulp them down his capacious throat. Mabel uttered a cry of
dismay, and, catching up the rolling pin, which was the nearest thing at
hand, flung it at the intruder, who snatched a last mouthful, and bolted
hastily through the back door.

"Oh, Dora! Aldred! Come and see what's happened!" cried poor Mabel,
bursting into the sitting-room, oblivious of the fact that a model
hostess ought not to air such domestic catastrophes in public. The
visitors did not stand on ceremony, however, but seized the opportunity
to make a dash for the kitchen, into which they had been longing to
peep.

"I never dreamt of Raggles coming in! I thought he was tied up!" wailed
Dora.

"We oughtn't to have left the back door open," said Aldred.

"It was so hot; one can't have the place all stuffy! Oh, the wretch! I
wish they'd choked him!"

"Has he taken every one?" asked the disconsolate guests.

"All except three, and as he seemed to be licking the whole plateful, I
don't suppose anybody would care to try what he's left!" replied Mabel.

"My lovely scones! And I had split them and buttered them!" moaned Dora,
almost in tears.

"Well, we have the potato cakes, at any rate. Luckily, I put them on the
top of the stove, to keep hot, and Raggles didn't find them out."

"We'd better eat them quick, before any more accidents happen," advised
Aldred, hastily pouring the water on the tea, and heading the procession
back into the sitting-room.

The potato cakes were a huge success. That was the universal verdict.
They were light, and hot, and buttery, and the only fault to be found
was that there were not nearly sufficient of them. Mabel handed the
plate round with impartial justice, and there were only two apiece.

"Just enough to make one want more!" sighed Ursula, consuming the last
delicious crumb.

"There's plenty of bread and butter, if you're hungry."

"But I'm not bread-and-butter hungry!"

"I'm sorry we've no jam!" apologized Dora.

"Oh, don't!" begged Aldred, who still felt humiliated at the fate of the
blackberries.

"She didn't mean it!" interposed Mabel the peacemaker. "I vote we have
some buttered toast, and anybody can hold it who likes to volunteer."

When Miss Drummo