could see me now!' she thought; and then Mollie came in
and rummaged in a big basket for teaspoons.

Audrey carried out her teapot in triumph. Mollie had done her work well
and tastefully: the snowy cloth was on the table; there were cups and
saucers and plates; the butter was ornamented with green leaves, the
cakes were in a china basket. Kester was dusting some chairs.

'Doesn't it look nice!' exclaimed Mollie, quite forgetting her shyness.
'How I wish Cyril would come in! He does so love things to be nice--he
and Kester are so particular. Mamma!' glancing up at a window above
them, 'won't you please to hurry down? May I sit there, Miss Ross? I
always pour out the tea, because mamma does not like the trouble, and
Kester always sits next to me.'

'Is your mother an invalid, my dear?' asked Audrey, feeling that this
must be the case.

'Mamma? Oh no! She has a headache sometimes, but so do I--and Cyril
often says the same. I think mamma is strong, really. She can take long
walks, and she often sits up late reading or talking to Cyril; but it
tries her to do things in the house, she has never been accustomed to
it, and putting things to rights in Cyril's room has quite knocked her
up.'

'What are you talking about, you little chatterbox?' interrupted a gay,
good-humoured voice; and Audrey, turning round, saw a lady in black
coming quickly towards them: the next moment two hands were held out in
very friendly fashion. 'I need not ask who our kind visitor is,' went on
Mrs. Blake. 'I know it must be Miss Ross--no one else could have heard
of our arrival. Have you ever experienced the delights of a move? I
think I have never passed a more miserable four-and-twenty hours. I am
utterly done up, as I daresay my little girl has told you; but the sight
of that delicious tea-table is a restorative in itself. I had no idea
Rutherford held such kind neighbours. Mollie, I hope you have thanked
Miss Ross for her goodness. Dear me, what a figure the child looks!'

'Yes, mamma,' replied Mollie, with a return of her shyness; and she
slunk behind the tea-tray.

Audrey had apparently no answer ready. The oddest idea had come into her
mind: Supposing Michael were to fall in love with Mrs. Blake? He was a
great admirer of beauty, though he was a little fastidious on the
subject, and certainly, with the exception of Geraldine, Audrey thought
she had never seen a handsomer woman.

Mrs. Blake's beauty was certainly of no ordinary type: