a look around the camp and I'll show you how we tap the
maple trees for the sap; then afterwards we'll go into the sugar house
where we boil it down and make the maple syrup."

We'd been talking so earnestly that we hadn't heard him come up, and I
felt quite dazed for a minute.

He explained everything to us, or rather to me, for Mr. Brett knew all
about it beforehand. Then we had a long walk over the hills, which are
billowy and wooded, like Surrey, and when we came back Mr. Trowbridge
took me to the beehives to get some honey and show me what a queen bee
is like. He gave me a hat with a mosquito-net veil and put on one
himself. Then he opened a hive, and when I wasn't a bit nervous,
because I trusted him, he said, "I tell you what it is, Lady Betty,
you're a trump. I shouldn't be surprised if there isn't something in
blood after all."

[Illustration: "_Mr. Trowbridge took me to the beehives to get some
honey and show me what a queen bee is like_"]

I was pleased, for I don't think that he or any of the others at the
Valley Farm are the kind to say nice things to you unless they really
mean them.

After we had done all this sight-seeing, it was past five o'clock, and
I was longing for tea. "We shall have it soon now," I said to myself,
as we sat on the side verandah on benches and rocking-chairs, fanning
ourselves with palm-leaf fans. Mrs. Trowbridge and the girls had
changed their dresses while we were away, and put on white ones, fresh
and nice, though the plainest of the plain--except Ide, who had a pink
Alsatian bow in her hair and a flowered sash. I think they must have
washed their faces with yellow kitchen soap, too, for they were so
incredibly clean and polished that the green of the waving trees seemed
to be reflected in their complexion in little sheens and shimmers. I
don't suppose it would have occurred to them to dust off the shine with
powder, as Mrs. Trowbridge and pretty Patty seem to have no vanity; or
perhaps they would consider it wicked.

They all sat and rocked, but nobody said anything about tea.

"They do have it late," I thought.

Suddenly Ide exclaimed, "My, how thirsty I am!" and she got up.

"Oh, joy," I said to myself.

"I guess I'll go and get a drink of water from the mineral spring," she
went on; and then catching my yearning eye she asked if I would like to
go too.

When your whole soul is sighing for tea, cold water does seem a poor
substitute, but I began to lose hope no