"If Kitty has let the puddings burn!" Quick as thought I turned from my room, and went gliding down stairs.

As I neared the kitchen, the smell of burned flour, or pastry, grew stronger.

All was silent below; and I approached in silence.

On entering Kitty's domain, I perceived that lady seated in front of the range, with a brown covered pamphlet novel held close to her face, in the pages of which she was completely lost.

I never saw any one more entirely absorbed in a book.