en nobody can see, I'll write
to her."

Tom and Racey saw that I was unhappy, though I only said "never mind,"
and when they saw that, it made them leave off quarrelling, and they
both came to me to kiss me and ask me not to look "so sorry."

Just then Sarah came up with our tea-tray. She spoke very kindly to us,
and told us she had begged Mrs. Partridge to send us some strawberry jam
for our tea. And to the boys' great delight, there it was. As for me, I
was too angry with Mrs. Partridge to like even her jam, but I did think
it kind of Sarah.

"I'm sure you deserve it, you poor little things," she said. "And I
don't see what any one has to find fault with in any of you. You've been
as quiet as any three little mice to-day."

"Sarah," I said, encouraged by her way of speaking, "have you heard
anything about the new nurse that is coming?"

Sarah shook her head.

"I don't think there's any one decided on," she said. "Mrs. Partridge
has written to somewhere in the country, and I think she's expecting a
letter. She said to-day that if to-morrow's fine, I must take you all
out a walk."

Then she arranged our tea on the table and we drew in our chairs.

"I wish we had a tea-pot," I said. "I know quite well how to pour it
out. It's horrid this way."

"This way," was an idea of Mrs. Partridge's. Since we had had no nurse,
she had been unwilling to trust me with the tea-making, so she made it
down-stairs and poured the whole--tea, milk, and sugar--into a jug, out
of which I poured it into our cups. It wasn't nearly so nice, it had not
the hot freshness of tea straight out of a tea-pot, and besides it did
not suit our tastes, which were all a little different, to be treated
precisely alike. Racey liked his tea so weak that it was hardly tea at
all, Tom liked his sweet, and I liked hardly any sugar, so the jug
arrangement suited none of us; Racey the best, perhaps, for it was
certainly not strong, and sweeter than _I_ liked, any way. But this
evening the unexpected treat of the strawberry jam made the boys less
difficult to please about the tea.

"It was rather kind of Mrs. Partridge to send us the jam," said Tom. He
spoke timidly; he didn't quite like to say she was kind till he had, as
it were, got my leave to do so.

"It isn't _her_ jam," I said. "It's Uncle Geoff's, and indeed I
shouldn't wonder if the strawberries were from our garden. I remember
mother always used to say 'We must send some fruit to Geoff.'"