the tea-things. The old serving-woman who had lived with them
for many years was suffering from rheumatism, and was cared for
by her daughter in the little cottage across the road from the
Lancaster house. Her husband and grandson were the man and boy
at work in the grounds. The three sisters took care of
themselves and their house with the elegant ease and lack of
fluster of gentlewomen born and bred. Miss Amelia, bringing in
the tea-tray, was an unclassed being, neither maid nor mistress,
but outranking either. She had tied on a white apron. She bore
the silver tray with an ease which bespoke either nerve or muscle
in her lace-draped arms.

She poured the tea, holding the silver pot high and letting the
amber fluid trickle slowly, and the pearls and diamonds on her
thin hands shone dully. Sophia passed little china plates and
fringed napkins, and Anna a silver basket with golden squares of
sponge-cake.

The ladies ate and drank, and the blue and white bundle on the
sofa remained motionless. Eudora, after she had finished her
tea, leaned back gracefully in her chair, and her dark eyes
gleamed with its mild stimulus. She remained an hour or more.
When she went out, Amelia slipped an envelope into her hand and
at the same time embraced and kissed her. Sophia and Anna
followed her example. Eudora opened her mouth as if to speak,
but smiled instead, a fond, proud smile. During the last fifteen
minutes of her stay Amelia had slipped out of the room with the
blue and white bundle. Now she brought it out and laid it
carefully in the carriage.