"Someone! Anyone! Help!" Sister Monica Joan paced between the hallway and the dining room wringing her hands together anxiously. "Help!"

"Sister Monica Joan? What's the matter?" Delia called from the stairs, her bangs floating upward as her steps quickened. She tried to ascertain what might be ailing the Sister this time. Being at Nonnatus House for several months now hadn't brought her any closer to successfully predicting the elderly nun whose inquisitive eyes brimmed with knowledge and persnickety confusion.

"I consumed a piece of cake- it was only one piece, mind you. And, alas, when I turned to put the tin's hat back in its place- the tin had vanished!" Sister Monica Joan's eyes darted to and fro searching the table top as if, under the spell of dancing blue, the tin would reappear.

"Oh Sister Monica Joan, here it is."

"By the mop bucket?" Indignant, the nun turned pale. "And water puddled on the floor beside it."

Delia paused. "I suppose Mrs. Mapleton forgot to put her work supplies away before she left?"

"The maid was not here, child, for I was alone." She stepped closer to Delia, her eyes gleaming like a child bursting with secrets. "Do you not think me capable of eating my cake in private so as to avoid the cake police?"

"The cake police?"

The nun was now cradling the tin under one arm. "Now I have competition. However, this ghostly apparition will not get the best of me!" She proudly exited the dining room with her cherished prodigal possession as protected as her own child would have been.

Oh dear, Delia thought. This must be a bad spell. She had never seen Sister Monica Joan so unhinged.

"Delia?"

"Oh, hello Pats." The sight of Patsy's warm smile coming towards her made any thoughts of nuns or cake or ghostly apparitions completely disappear for a moment.

"Are you in here to steal something tasty?"

"If you're referring to the carrot cake, I'm afraid Sister Monica Joan disappeared with it already."

"Ah. Yes. I caught a glimpse of her sneaking it into the sitting room."

"I would have coaxed it away from her, but she seemed to be in quite a bad state." Delia lit the stove and moved the kettle over top its whistling flame.

"Really?" Patsy, obviously liking the idea of sitting down for tea with Delia, set two cups out on the table.

Delia nodded. "Something about not knowing where the cake tin went off to. Then I found it on the floor by the mop bucket." She turned to point out the spot. "Oh dear. Did you put it away, Pats?"

"Put what away? The mop bucket?"

She knew Patsy hadn't, though. "It was right there just a minute ago." Delia's face flushed with embarrassment as she began to wonder if Sister Monica Joan's senility might be contagious.

The smile on Patsy's face was taunting but playful. "Really Delia, I think you need a night out. You've worked so many odd shifts lately it must be exhausting."

Delia smiled at the tea pot and decided to forget about the whole thing. After only having one day off in two weeks, the thought of going on a date with her girlfriend seemed more than glorious. "You know you're wonderful?"

"Mhm," Patsy agreed, trying to suppress a crooked grin.

"You're also vain, conceited, and a pompous, flaming-"

"Alright, alright. That's enough, you." Patsy's smiling lips found Delia's forehead. "So is it a date then? Thursday evening? I know you're off."

"Yes. Always yes."