ich we poor humans cannot. You will set out
your cream-jug that was presented to Mrs. Martha Buggins by her friends
and neighbours as a token of respect in 1823, and the bowl that was
presented to Mr. Bobby as a sword and shooting prize in 1860, and all
your pretty little odds and ends. You will get everything ready in the
kitchen, so that customers won't have to wait long; but you will not
prepare much in advance, so that there'll be nothing wasted."

"It sounds beautiful in your mouth, miss, and it surely wouldn't be any
'arm to make a trial of it."

"Of course it won't. There is no inn here where nice people will stop
(who would ever think of asking for tea at the Retired Soldier?), and
the moment they see our sign, in walking or driving past, that moment
they will be consumed with thirst. You do not begin to appreciate
our advantages as a tea station. In the first place, there is a
watering-trough not far from the gate, and drivers very often stop
to water their horses; then we have the lovely garden which everybody
admires; and if everything else fails, there is the baby. Put that faded
pink flannel slip on Jem, showing his tanned arms and legs as usual,
tie up his sleeves with blue bows as you did last Sunday, put my white
tennis-cap on the back of his yellow curls, turn him loose in the
hollyhocks, and await results. Did I not open the gate the moment I saw
him, though there was no apartment sign in the window?"

Mrs. Bobby was overcome by the magic of my arguments, and as there were
positively no attendant risks, we decided on an early opening. The
very next day after the hanging of the second sign, I superintended the
arrangements myself. It was a nice thirsty afternoon, and as I filled
the flower-vases I felt such a desire for custom and such a love of
trade animating me that I was positively ashamed. At three o'clock I
went upstairs and threw myself on the bed for a nap, for I had been
sketching on the hills since early morning. It may have been an hour
later when I heard the sound of voices and the stopping of a heavy
vehicle before the house. I stole to the front window, and, peeping
under the shelter of the vines, saw a char-a-bancs, on the way from
Great Belvern to the Beacon. It held three gentlemen, two ladies, and
four children, and everything had worked precisely as I intended.
The driver had seen the watering-trough, the gentlemen had seen the
tea-sign, the children had seen the flowers and the can