She winked largely with her left eye, and a smile of relief
travelled round the room.

Tea was a silent meal in spite of the festive damper, which was so
good that Mollie thought it must have alleviated the unfortunate lot
of the Children of Israel considerably. Hugh was thinking out his
plan for making attar of roses; Prue was day-dreaming about nothing
in particular, as she was too fond of doing; Grizzel's mind was
wandering away to golden bowls, golden cherries, and other possible
and some quite impossible golden achievements; while Mollie listened
to Baby, who carried on a long and intimate conversation with a
family of bread-and-butter--otherwise the beddy-buts--which had
found a temporary home upon her plate. Miss Hilton poured out tea
absent-mindedly, and seldom spoke except to rebuke someone for
putting elbows on the table.

As soon as the meal was over the children went into the garden
again, and, once outside, their tongues began to move.

"I shall nab Baby's bronchitis-kettle," Hugh announced, "and make a
distiller, and we can begin to-morrow. You girls will have to help
me, for I must watch the distilling all the time, and someone must
keep me supplied with fresh rose-petals."

"I can't do much, because I'm going to make jam," said Grizzel, "and
I want Prue and Mollie to help me to gather cherries. I've got one
or two new ideas"--Mollie thought the family seemed great on ideas--
"but, if you'll solder up my jam tins, I'll help with your attar."

"I'll tell you what," said Prue, "we'll have a secret breakfast."