Kitty drew a deep sigh of relief that the episode was ended; Betty, one of regret.

“There were six large sandwiches in that packet,” she said reproachfully, “and the apples were beauties.  I wish now I had eaten more.  I am sure I could have if I had tried.”

Though there was plenty to do in the woods, that hour to tea-time seemed somehow a very long one, and quite ten minutes before it was up they were back at the farm to inquire if it was four o’clock yet.  Mrs. Henderson smiled knowingly as she saw them gathered at the door, but she noticed that the eager faces were flushed and weary-looking, and she asked them in to sit down and rest, promising she would not keep them long.

As they were to have “a savour to their tea” they were to have the meal in the house, instead of in the garden, and glad enough they were to sink into the slippery, springless easy-chairs, which seemed to them then the most luxurious seats the world could produce—­at least they did to Kitty and Dan, who took the only two; Betty got on the window-seat and stretched herself out; Tony, a very weary little man indeed, scrambled on to Kitty’s lap; and all of them, too tired to talk much, gazed with interest about the long, low room.

It was not beautiful, and they knew it well, yet the fascination of it never failed.  On the walls were hung large framed historical and scriptural scenes, worked in cross-stitch with wool’s of the brightest hues, varied by a coloured print of a bird’s-eye view of the battle of Tel-el-Kebir, an almanac for the current year, and a large oleograph of a young lady und a dog wreathed in roses that put every flower in the garden to shame for size and brilliancy.  But none of these could give a tithe of the pleasure the worked ones did; there was such fascination in counting how many stitches went to the forming of a nose, how many red and how many white to the colouring of a cheek, or the shaping of the hands, and fingers, and toes.

“I didn’t know that Robert Bruce had six toes!” said Betty, very solemn with the importance of her discovery, her eyes fastened on a representation of that hero asleep in a cave, while a spider as large as his head wove a web of cables across the opening.  “Did you, Dan?”

“Didn’t you?” answered Dan gravely.  “Don’t you know that in Scotland they have an extra toe in case one should get frost-bitten and drop off?”

“Of course I know it is very cold up there,” said Betty, who was never willing to admit ignorance of anything; “but supposing two got frost-bitten and dropped off, what would they do then?”

Dan, pretending not to hear her question, strolled over to the bookcase.

“Surely it must be tea-time!” he exclaimed.

Betty, seeing that no answer was forthcoming, slipped from her seat to examine more closely some wax fruit which, under a glass case, adorned a side-table.

“I do think it is wonderful how they make them,” she said impressively; “they are so exactly like real fruit.”