to teach Milly how to
make for herself, and Tiza pushed a bunch of wild raspberries into her
hand, and ran away before Milly could say thank you; Bessie shyly
produced a Christmas card that somebody had once sent to her; and even
Charlie had managed to provide himself with a bunch of the wild yellow
poppies which grew on the wall of the Ravensnest garden, and were a joy
to all beholders.

Then Mrs. Backhouse put Milly at one end of the table, while she began
to pour out tea at the other, and the feast began. Certainly, Milly
thought, it was much more exciting going out to tea at a farmhouse than
having children to tea with you at home, just as you might anywhere, on
any day in the year. There were the big hens coming up to the door and
poking in their long necks to take a look at them; there were the
pigeons circling round and round in the yard; there was the sound of
milking going on in the shed close by, and many other sights and sounds
which were new and strange and delightful.

As for Olly, he was very much taken up for a time with the red and black
table-cloth, and could not be kept from peering underneath it from time
to time, as if he suspected that the white table-cloth he was generally
accustomed to had been hidden away underneath for a joke. But when the
time for cake came, Olly forgot the table-cloth altogether. He had never
seen a cake quite like the bun-loaf, which kind Mrs. Backhouse had made
herself for the occasion, and of which she had given him a hunch, so in
his usual inquisitive way he began to turn it over and over, as if by
looking at it long enough he could find out how it was made and all
about it. Presently, when the others were all quietly enjoying their
bun-loaf, Olly's shrill little voice was heard saying--while he put two
separate fingers on two out of the few currants in his piece:

"_This_ currant says to _that_ currant, 'I'm here, where are you? You're
so far off I can't see you nowhere.'"

"Olly, be quiet," said Milly.

"Well, but, Milly, I can't help it; it's so funny. There's only three
currants in my bit, and cookie puts such a lot in at home. I'm
pretending they're little children wanting to play, only they can't,
they're so far off. There, I've etten one up. Now there's only two.
That's you and me, Milly. I'll eat you up first--krick!"

"Never mind about the currants, little master," said Mrs. Backhouse,
laughing at him. "It's nice and sweet any way, and you can eat as much