rand, there was nothing whatever to eat
or drink, except the two dry biscuits, and the two miserable cups of
milk, which seemed to become smaller every time that Harry looked at
them.

Presently the clock struck six, and Harry listened to the hour very much
as a prisoner would do in the condemned cell in Newgate, feeling that
the dreaded time was at last arrived. Soon afterwards, several handsome
carriages drove up to the door filled with little Masters and Misses,
who hurried joyfully into the house, talking and laughing all the way up
stairs, being evidently quite happy at coming out to tea, while poor
Harry and Laura almost wished the floor would open and swallow them up,
so they shrunk into a distant corner of the room, quite ashamed to show
their faces.

The young ladies were all dressed in their best frocks, with pink
sashes, and pink shoes; while the little boys appeared in their holiday
clothes, with their hair newly brushed, and their faces washed. The
whole party had dined at two o'clock, so they were as hungry as hawks,
looking eagerly round, whenever they entered, to see what was on the
tea-table, and evidently surprised that nothing had yet been put down.
Laura and Harry soon afterwards heard their visitors whispering to each
other about Norwich buns, rice cakes, spunge biscuits, and maccaroons;
while Peter Grey was loud in praise of a party at George Lorraine's the
night before, where an immense plum-cake had been sugared over like a
snow storm, and covered with crowds of beautiful amusing mottoes; not to
mention a quantity of noisy crackers, that exploded like pistols;
besides which, a glass of hot jelly had been handed to each little guest
before he was sent home.

Every time the door opened, all eyes were anxiously turned round,
expecting a grand feast to be brought in; but quite the contrary--it was
only Andrew showing up more hungry visitors; while Harry felt so
unspeakably wretched, that, if some kind fairy could only have turned
him into a Norwich bun at the moment, he would gladly have consented to
be cut in pieces, that his ravenous guests might be satisfied.

Charles Forrester was a particularly good-natured boy, so Harry at last
took courage and beckoned him into a remote corner of the room, where he
confessed, in whispers, the real state of affairs about tea, and how
sadly distressed he and Laura felt, because they had nothing whatever to
give among so many visitors, seeing that Mrs. Crabtr