handkerchief wiped some few leaves and dust-marks off my table, then
saying in a low voice, "I didn't know you 'ad beauties of yer own,
like them in the glass pots, but I'll giv' 'em to the cook." So
saying, he went away into the kitchen, and my visitors came in, and
by and by some more friends arrived.

The weather was very warm, and we sat chattering and enjoying the
shade of the trees by the open French window. Presently, somebody
being thirsty, I suggested lemonade and ice, and I offered
strawberries, and (if possible) cream; though my mind misgave me as
to the latter delicacy, for we had several times been obliged to do
without some of our luxuries if they entailed "_fetching_," as we had
no boy to run errands quickly on an emergency and be useful. However,
I rang the bell; and when the housemaid, whose temper, since she had
been what is curiously termed in servants'-hall language "single-
handed," was most trying, entered, I said, "Make some lemonade, Mary,
and ask cook to gather some strawberries quickly, and bring them,
with some cream."

Mary looked at me as who should say, "Well, I'm sure! and who's to do
it all? You'll have to wait a bit." And I know we should have to
wait, and therefore resigned myself to do so patiently, keeping up
the ball of gossip, and wondering if a little music later on would
perhaps while away the time.

Much to my amazement, in less than a quarter of an hour Mary entered
with the tray, all being prepared; and directly I looked at the
strawberry-bowl I detected a novel feature in the table decoration. A
practised hand had evidently been at work; but whose? Mary was far
too matter-of-fact a person. Food, plates, knives and forks, glasses,