Well, you've spoilt all the sugar, at any rate! And the blackberries
are no use now, either. It's really too bad!"

"Oh, Dora, don't be cross, there's a dear!" entreated Mabel. "Aldred's
fearfully sorry! I suppose we shouldn't have been so ambitious. I
expect your scones will be lovely, and that will quite make up for the
jam. Hadn't you better look at them again?"

Dora allowed herself to be pacified, though she felt she had more than
one grievance against Aldred that day. She had refrained from any
reproaches when her eyebrows were singed, but she was annoyed at her
disfigurement, and thought that the various misadventures might have
been avoided. She was considerably consoled, however, when she opened
the oven door and caught sight of her scones. They had risen
beautifully, and were done to a turn, just brown enough on the top, and
nicely baked through.

"I believe they'll taste all right, when they're split in halves and
buttered," she murmured, as she took them out of the tin.

"Help me with the potato cakes, Aldred," suggested Mabel, who was
anxious to make up for Dora's snubbing. "You can stamp them out, and
I'll do the rolling. And somebody fill the kettle! It is a quarter to
four, and the girls are sure to be so punctual!"

"She'd better clean out the preserving pan!" grunted Dora. "It can't be
left in this state. Miss Drummond will be round again at six, to inspect
before we go. Those who make a mess must tidy up."

Aldred saw the force of the argument. She did not want to shirk the
disagreeable task, nor put it off on to anybody else. Though she held
rather too good an opinion of herself, it was not one of her failings to
try to avoid her fair share of any work on hand. She began at once to
clean the pan, and toiled away without asking any help from the others,
though it was a lengthy and troublesome performance. She was obliged to
scrape the burnt sugar off with a knife, and then scrub away with sand
and brick dust and soap. It took her fully half an hour, and made her
hands quite sore.

She had just finished, and put the humiliating row of jam pots back on
to the scullery shelf, when a loud rap-tap sounded on the door.

"They're here--ten minutes too soon!" cried Mabel. "Go and let them in,
Aldred. I'm taking out the potato cakes, and Dora's laying the table."

The five visitors arrived in the very highest of spirits, and with the
best of appetites. They overstepped the bounds of politeness by snif