nd fish, and jam and cream, a tart, and a big home-made loaf;
and the scent of the flowers and the tea all mingled together in a most
appetising whole.

To the children it all seemed wonderful, exquisite; and for the first time
they realised how hungry they were. Penelope's eyes wandered through the
window to the flower-beds outside.

"Oh, what a lovely garden!" she cried, struck at once by the beauty of its
well-kept air, and the cared-for look of everything. Then she grew silent
as her thoughts flew back with tender pity to the old beloved untidy
Framley garden, and she felt a twinge of remorse that she had not tried to
do something with it--it might perhaps have been made to look like this.
Then, at a word from Miss Ashe, they turned away from the window to the
tea-table.

While the children were taking their places she made the tea.

"Now," she said, as she drew the cosy over the teapot, "which of you will
say grace?"

The four looked from one to the other dismayed. Esther and Penelope's
cheeks flamed hotly, Angela looked puzzled. Poppy alone spoke.

"What is 'grace'?" she asked innocently.

Miss Ashe grasped the situation in a moment, and, though her heart sank a
little in dismay at their ignorance, she showed no sign. "It is a little
prayer we say before a meal, to ask God's blessing on what He has given
us, and we say one again at the end to thank Him for it."

"We never say anything at home," said Poppy, with childlike candour.
"What do you say, Cousin Charlotte?"

"Put your hands together, dear, and bow your head, and you shall hear.
It is very simple; you will be able to say it too in a day or so.
Now," bowing her head reverently, "For what we are about to receive, O
Lord make us truly thankful. Amen." Then Miss Ashe raised her head, and
the children followed suit.

"I've read in some of my books of people who said grace," said Angela,
"but I didn't know that people really did it."

Cousin Charlotte's face was very grave. "A great many do, and a great
many more do not, but every one should. Don't you yourselves feel that
you want to, dears? You say 'Thank you!' to any one who gives you even
the least little trifle. You have just said 'Thank you!' to me for the
cup of tea I handed you; then surely much more should you say it to the
good God who gives you everything. Don't you see, darling?"

"Yes, I see," said Penelope soberly. "I wish I had thought of it before.
How ungrateful we mus