rry dam," said Racey, and the corners of his mouth went down
as if he were going to cry. He had been thinking of the strawberry jam,
I dare say, as a sort of make up for the dry rice pudding at
dinner--quite dry and hard it was, not milky at all, and Mrs. Partridge
knew we liked milky puddings.

"Don't be so sure of that," said Sarah, who was taking away the things.
"If you are all very good this afternoon I dare say you will have
strawberry jam for tea. Mrs. Partridge is going out at three o'clock,
and she won't be back till six, so the tea will be my business."

The boys were quite pleased to have something to look forward to, and I,
for my own reasons, was glad to hear Mrs. Partridge was going out.

It was, for November, a bright afternoon, much brighter than we had had
yet. Tom, who was standing at the window looking out, gave a great
sigh.

"What's the matter, Master Tom?" said Sarah.

"I would so like to go out and play in the garden," said poor Tom. "What
a horrid house this is, to have no garden! Sarah, aren't you going to
take us a walk this afternoon?"

Sarah shook her head. "I can't, Master Tom," she said; "Mrs. Partridge
is in such a fuss about going out herself as never was, and I've got a
great deal to do. But if you'll try to amuse yourselves till tea-time,
I'll see if I can't think of something to please you after that."

"It's _so_ long to tea-time," said Tom, discontentedly; "one, two, three
hours--at least two and a half."

"Couldn't we have tea sooner, Sarah," I said; "as soon as ever Mrs.
Partridge goes? We've not had a very good dinner, and I'm sure we shall
be hungry."

Sarah considered.

"Well, I'll see if I can't get it for you by half-past three," she said.

Two hours even to half-past three! And the more tempting look of the day
outside made it more tiresome to have to stay in. We really didn't know
_what_ to do to pass the time. I couldn't propose telling stories again,
for we had had so much of them the day before. Racey, as usual, seemed
content enough with his everlasting horses, but Tom got very tiresome. I
was trying to make a new lining to Lady Florimel's opera cloak with a
piece of silk I had found among my treasures. It was rather difficult to
do it neatly, and I had no one to help me, and as it was Tom's fault
that the other one had been spoilt, I really did think he might have
been nice and not teasing. But he was really _very_ tiresome--he kept
pulling it out of my han