tty asked if it was in a church "like this" that Mrs. Pitt's
father preached, and if her former home resembled the particular
rectory they then chanced to be passing, Mrs. Pitt replied, "Yes, my
home was somewhat like this one. All English country churches and
rectories look very much alike,--that is, almost all are vine-covered,
and very old and quaint--yet, I think each has its own very distinct
individuality, too."

Mrs. Pitt, of course, wanted some tea, so about four o'clock they
stopped at a clean little cottage, near a stretch of woodland. Mrs.
Pitt herself dismounted and stepped up to the door, which stood
hospitably open. A little flaxen-haired child ran out curiously at the
sound of the knock, and then, frightened, scampered away to call her
mother. That good woman, in her neat black dress and stiffly-starched
white apron, at once understood the situation.

"You just seat yourselves there under the trees," she ordered them,
"and I'll bring right out a shive off a loaf of bread, and a tot o'
tea for each of you."

The young people looked puzzled at this speech, but Mrs. Pitt
smilingly led the way to the place their hostess designated. In a
surprisingly short time the woman brought out a table (having scorned
the assistance of the two boys), spread it with an immaculately clean
cloth, and set thereon a very tempting loaf of brown bread and a pot
of steaming tea. There was also jam, of course. While they enjoyed
their meal, she stood by, her hands on her hips, and a radiant smile
upon her face at the praises of her guests. Every few moments the
little girl would peep out from behind the cottage, and once she
almost came up to the group under the trees; but her mother, when she
spied her, sent her hastily back, saying by way of an apology:--"She's
all swatched, but she's only my reckling, you must know." As they rode
away into the woods, the good woman stood in the middle of the road
waving her table-cloth for good-by.

"Wasn't she a dandy!" John burst out. "Couldn't understand what she
said, though! Might just as well have been Greek!"

"She certainly did have some old Warwickshire expressions!" laughed
Mrs. Pitt. "I don't know when I've heard that word 'reckling.' It
simply means her youngest child, who she said was all 'swatched.' That
signifies being untidy, but I am sure I couldn't see the tiniest spot
of dirt anywhere upon the child."

Betty was rather glad when they at last jumped off their bicycles a