had had the first thought of
it; for Rosamond quietly took the management of all that was to be
delicately and gracefully arranged, and to have the true tone of high
propriety.

Barbara made the little white rolls; Rosamond and Ruth beat up the
cake; mother attended to the boiling of the tongues, and, when it was
time, to the making of the delicious coffee; all together we gave all
sorts of pleasant touches to the brown room, and set the round table
(the old cover could be "shied" out of sight now, as Stephen said, and
replaced with the white glistening damask for the tea) in the corner
between the southwest windows that opened upon the broad piazza.

The table was bright with pretty silver--not too much--and best glass
and delicate porcelain with a tiny thread of gold; and the rolls and
the thin strips of tongue cut lengthwise, so rich and tender that a
fork could manage them, and the large raspberries, black and red and
white, were upon plates and dishes of real Indian, white and golden
brown.

The wide sashes were thrown up, and there were light chairs outside;
Mrs. Holabird would give the guests tea and coffee, and Ruth and
Barbara would sit in the window-seats and do the waiting, back and
forth, and Dakie Thayne and Harry Goldthwaite would help.

Katty held her office as a sinecure that day; looked on admiringly,
forgot half her regular work, felt as if she had somehow done wonders
without realizing the process, and pronounced that it was "no throuble
at ahl to have company."

But before the tea was the new game.

It was a bold stroke for us Holabirds. Originating was usually done
higher up; as the Papal Council gives forth new spiritual inventions
for the joyful acceptance of believers, who may by no means invent in
their turn and offer to the Council. One could hardly tell how it
would fall out,--whether the Haddens and the Marchbankses would take
to it, or whether it would drop right there.

"They _may_ 'take it off your hands, my dear,'" suggested the
remorseless Barbara. Somebody had offered to do that once for Mrs.
Holabird, when her husband had had an interest in a ship in the Baltic
trade, and some furs had come home, richer than we had quite expected.

Rose was loftily silent; she would not have _said_ that to her very
self; but she had her little quiet instincts of holding on,--through
Harry Goldthwaite, chiefly; it was his novelty.

Does this seem _very_ bare worldly scheming among young girl