and a jug of milk, then followed Jessie with a plate of
bread and butter. When all this was arranged, back they went again,
soon to reappear, Mrs. Dawson with a delicious-looking apple-pie and
a bowl of sugar, while to Jessie was entrusted, what she considered
the most precious burthen of all--a dish of cream. And there, amidst
the scents of the mignonette and stocks, the roses and jessamine, the
Sunday twitter of the birds and hum of the bees, they sat and slowly
enjoyed their Sunday meal, lingering over it in the full enjoyment of
the peace and calm of the hour and the scene. And oh, how good the
tea tasted, and the apple-pie and cream, and the bread and butter,
all with the open-air flavour about them, which is better than any
other.

Then, having eaten and drunk all they wanted, they sat back in their
chairs and talked and listened to the birds and the bees, and gazed
about them at the flowers close by and the hills in the distance,
looking so far away and still and mysterious in the fading afternoon
light. And as they sat there, little dreaming of what was about to
happen, a graceful woman's figure came slowly along the sunny road to
their gate and there paused.

"Why, it's Miss Grace Barley, I do declare!" cried Mrs. Dawson,
rising hurriedly to her feet. "Go and open the gate for her, father,
do. Why, whatever is she doing here, at this time of day? Sunday,
too, and all. It is very kind of her, I am sure."

Patience began hurriedly gathering together the tea-things and
carrying them into the house, Jessie helping her.

"Wouldn't Miss--the lady like some tart, granny?" she asked, as she
saw her grandmother beginning to pick it up. To her it seemed that
every one must hunger for anything so delicious. Somehow, too, it
did not seem very kind to carry it all away from under their
visitor's very eyes.

"Well, now, I declare, I never thought of that," said granny pausing
and replacing the pie on the table, "at any rate, I can but ask her.
I'll put the kettle on, in case she hasn't had any tea."

Meanwhile Thomas had let their visitor in and welcomed her warmly,
and they came slowly up the path together, looking at the flowers as
they passed. Jessie stood by her little chair, watching the lady.
She knew she was the Miss Grace Barley who lived in one of the pretty
houses by the green, and she thought she looked as pretty as the
house and just right to live in it.

When they came close Miss Grace smile