to “us” than when—­Dymock having cleared away all that was his charge, and brought all that Grandmamma required from the pantry—­the old lady established herself at one end of the table, with two bowls of beautifully white wood, and a jug of hot water before her, and a towel of fine damask in her hand, and set to work daintily to rinse out each cup and saucer in the first bowl, passing them then into the fresh water of the second, and wiping them—­after they had stood to drip for a moment or two on a small slab of wood made for the purpose—­most carefully with the little cloth.  It was nice to watch her—­her hands looked so white, and moved so nimbly, and—­I had forgotten to mention that—­looked so business-like with the brown holland cuffs braided in white which she kept for this occasion, and always put on, with the big holland apron to match, before she began operations.  Yes, it had been a treat to “us” merely to watch her, and so you can fancy how very proud Duke and Pamela felt when she at length allowed them, each with a little towel, to wipe their own cups and saucers.  They had been promoted to this for some months now, and no accident had happened; and on those days—­few and far between, it must be allowed—­on which they had not been found deserving of their breakfast number two, I think the punishment of not “helping Grandmamma to wash up” had been quite as great as that of missing the treat itself.  For very often, while deftly getting through her task, Grandmamma would talk so nicely to the children, telling them stories of the time when she was a little girl herself, and of all the changes between those far-away days and “now”; of the strange, wonderful places she had visited with Grandpapa; of cities with mosques and minarets gleaming against the intense blue sky of the East in the too splendid, scorching sunshine that no one who has not seen it can picture to himself; of rides—­weary endless rides—­night after night through the desert; or voyages of months and months together across the pathless ocean.  They would sit, the little brother and sister, staring up at her with their great solemn blue eyes, as if they would never tire of listening—­how wonderfully wise Grandpapa and Grandmamma must be!—­“Surely,” said little Pamela one day with a great sigh, “surely Grandmamma must know everyfing;” while Duke’s breast swelled with the thought that he too, like his father and grandfather before him, would journey some day to those distant lands, there, if need were, like them “to fight for the king.”  For there were times at which “bruvver” was quite determined to be a soldier, though at others—­the afternoon, for instance, when the young bull poked his head through the hedge and shook it at him and Pamela, and Duke’s toy-sword had unfortunately been left at home in the nursery—­he did not feel quite so sure about it!

But on this particular morning the little pair were less interested and talkative than usual.  They sat so quiet while Grandmamma made her arrangements that her attention was aroused.