. Marchbanks and her son had reached the table and
joined Archie.

"I say, Arthur! O, Mrs. Marchbanks! You never got such coffee as
this, I do believe! The open air has done something to it, or else
the cream comes from some supernal cows! Miss Holabird!"

Rosamond turned round.

"I don't see,--Mrs. Marchbanks ought to have some of this coffee,
but where is your good woman gone?" For Miss Arabel had stepped
round behind the oak-tree for a moment, to see about some
replenishing.

In her prim, plain dress, utterly innocent of style or _bias_, and
her zealous ministry, good Miss Arabel might easily be taken for
some comfortable, superior old servant; but partly from a sudden
sense of fun,--Mrs. Marchbanks standing there in all her elegant
dignity,--and partly from a jealous chivalry of friendship, Rosamond
would not let it pass so.

"Good woman? Hush! she is one of our hostesses, the owner of the
ground, and a dear friend of mine. Here she is. Miss Waite, let me
introduce Mr. Archibald Mucklegrand. Mrs. Marchbanks will like some
coffee, please."

Which Mrs. Marchbanks took with a certain look of amazement, that
showed itself subtilely in a slight straightening of the lips and an
expansion of the nostrils. She did not _sniff_; she was a great deal
too much a lady; she was Mrs. Marchbanks, but if she had been Mrs.
Higgin, and had felt just so, she would have sniffed.

Somebody came up close to Rosamond on the other side.

"That was good," said Kenneth Kincaid. "Thank you for that, Miss
Rosamond."

"Will you have some more?" asked Rosamond, cunningly, pretending to
misunderstand, and reaching her hand to take his empty cup.

"One mustn't ask for all one would like," said Kenneth,
relinquishing the cup, and looking straight in her eyes.

Rosamond's eyes fell; she had no rejoinder ready; it was very well
that she had the cup to take care of, and could turn away, for she
felt a very foolish color coming up in her face.

She made herself very busy among the guests. Archie Mucklegrand
stayed by, and spoke to her every time he found a chance. At last,
when people had nearly done eating and drinking, he asked her if she
would not show him the path down to the river.

"It must be beautiful down there under the slope," he said.

She called Dorris and Desire, then, and Oswald Megilp, who was with
them. He was spending a little time here at the Prendibles, with his
boat on the river, as he had used to do. When he coul