"I haven't brought anything to drink," she remarked presently, "I hope
you don't mind."

No, he minded nothing. Like herself, he was enjoying the treat to the
uttermost. He had not forgotten the lantern. It was waiting by the Magic
Cave. He begged that she would not hasten. The tide would not turn yet.

But Chris was in an impetuous mood. She wanted to start upon her
adventure without delay. Should they not explore first and have tea
after? It should be exactly as she wished, he assured her. Was it not her
_fête_?

But when at length she reached the shingle under the cliffs, she found a
surprise in store for her that made her change her mind.

A white napkin was spread daintily upon a flat-topped rock, and on this
were set a large pink and white cake and a box of _fondants_.

"Goodness!" ejaculated Chris.

"_Merveilleux_!" exclaimed the Frenchman.

She turned upon him. "Now, Bertie, you needn't pretend you are not at the
bottom of it, for I am old enough to know better. No," as he shrugged his
shoulders and spread out his hands, "it's not a bit of good doing that.
It doesn't deceive me in the least. I know you did it, and you're a
perfect dear, and it was sweet of you to think of it. It's the best
picnic I ever went to. And you even thought of tea," catching sight of a
small spirit-kettle that sang in a sheltered corner. "Let's have some at
once, shall we? I'm so thirsty."