technical experiments with her cake, rising presently, somewhat
flushed. "Ten minutes more," she said, with an air of satisfaction.
"And, as Brownie would say, 'he's rose lovely.' Have some tea, Cecil?"

Cecil assented, and watched the small figure in the voluminous white
apron as she flitted about the kitchen.

"I like having tea here," Norah confided to him. "Then I use Brownie's
teapot, and don't you always think tea tastes miles better out of a
brown pot? You won't get the proper afternoon cups either--I hope you
don't mind?" She stopped short, with a sudden sense of talking a
language altogether foreign to this bored young man in correct attire;
and a rush of something like irritation to think how different Jim or
Wally would have been--she could almost see Wally sitting on the edge of
the table, with a huge cup of tea in one hand, a scone in the other,
and his thin, eager face alight with cheerfulness. Cecil was certainly
heavy in the hand. She sighed, but bent manfully to her task again.

"You take sugar, don't you? And cream? Yes, you ought to have cream,
'cause you've been ill." She dashed into the pantry, returning with a
small jug. "The cake's not mine, so I can recommend it; but if you're
not frightened you can have one of my mince pies."

"Thanks, I'd rather have cake," said Cecil., and again Norah flushed at
his tone, but she laughed.

"It's certainly safer," she agreed, "I'm sure Brownie thought it was a
hideous risk to leave the pies to me." She supplied her cousin with
cake, and retreated to the oven.