"I don't see why they don't come," she said, aggrievedly, smoothing
down her skirt. "It's time, and I'm going to ring for tea, anyhow.
Mother said I could pour it, and I'll play lady all by myself if
nobody comes to play it with. I believe"--she turned her head--"I
believe they're coming now."

Again she went to the window, then rang for tea. "Quick, Timkins;
please hurry and bring it in before they come," she said. "They'll
be frozen." And as Timkins disappeared she put a fresh log on the
fire, drew the table closer to it, and seated herself at it.

"I'm a chaperone lady. I'm chaperoning my Uncle Winthrop and my
Cousin Claudia!" In gleeful delight she rocked backward and forward
and twisted her hands together tightly. "I'm sorry mother has a
headache, but I certainly am glad I can pour tea for them. I don't
know why anybody wants to go horseback-riding on a day like this,
though; I'd freeze." She straightened the embroidered cloth on the
table as Timkins put the tray on it, and lighted the lamp under the
kettle, and, taking up the tea-caddy, she measured out a generous
amount of its contents.

"I'll be careful and not get burnt up." She waved Timkins out.
"They're coming right in. It's the funniest thing about Uncle
Winthrop," she went on, as if to the tea-cups she was arranging. "He
didn't want to come and see Cousin Claudia, and now he comes here
every day. Wouldn't it be funny if he wanted her for a
sweetheart--and wouldn't it be grand!" Her arms were thrown out and
then hugged rapturously to her bosom; but instantly her face sobered.
"He can't have her, though, because she's somebody else's. I wonder
if he knows? He ought to, for Miss Robin says when he wants anything