One of Mrs. Dudley's prettiest tablecloths was spread on a little
piney level close to the brook, and Polly set out the paper plates
and cups and the boxes of food.

"Which do you like best, Mr. Randolph, coffee or chocolate?" Polly
queried anxiously.

"I will answer as a little boy of my acquaintance did,--'Whichever
you have the most of.'"

"Well, you see, we have only one, and I do hope you don't like
coffee best."

"I don't!" he declared. "I always drink chocolate when I can get
it."

"I'm glad I brought it, then!" cried Polly. "You cut the cake,
please, Miss Nita. I'm afraid I couldn't do it straight."

The little feast was ready at last, appetites were found to be of
the keenest sort, and everything went merrily.

"I have never had the pleasure of a meal at the Home,"--Mr.
Randolph was eating a Banbury turnover with plain enjoyment. "I
suppose you ladies are treated to this sort of thing every day."

"We have a pretty good cook," answered Miss Sterling discreetly;
"but these pies are of Mrs. Dudley's make. Polly brought the
lunch."