is, but Mary Beck was much offended.
"I go to your Aunt Barbara's oftener than anybody," she said jealously,
as they came away.

"She asked me to say that, and I did," maintained Betty. "Don't be
cross, Becky, it's going to be such a jolly tea-party. Why, here's
Jonathan back again already. Oh, good! the Picknells are happy to come."

The rest of the guests were quickly made sure of, and Betty and
reluctant Mary went back to the house. It made Betty a little
disheartened to find that her friend took every proposition on the wrong
side; she seemed to think most things about a tea-party were impossible,
and that all were difficult, and she saw lions in the way at every turn.
It struck Betty, who was used to taking social events easily, that
there was no pleasuring at all in the old village, though people were
always saying how gay and delightful it _used_ to be and how many guests
_used_ to come to town in the summer.

The old Leicester garden was a lovely place on a summer evening. Aunt
Barbara had been surprised when Betty insisted that she wished to have
supper there instead of in the dining-room; but Betty had known too many
out-of-door feasts in foreign countries not to remember how charming
they were and how small any dining-room seems in summer by contrast. And
after a few minutes' thought, Aunt Barbara, too, who had been in France
long before, asked Serena and Letty to spread the table under the large
cherry-tree near the arbor; and there it stood presently, with its white
cloth, and pink roses in two china bowls, all ready for the sandwiches
and bread and butter and strawberries and sponge-cake, and chocolate to
drink out of the prettiest cups in Tideshead. It was all simple and gay
and charming, the little feast; and full of grievous self-consciousness
as the shyest guest might have been when first met by Betty at the
doorstep, the pleasure of the party itself proved most contagious, and
all fears were forgotten. Everybody met on common ground for once,
without any thought of self. It came with surprise to more than one
girl's mind that a party was really so little trouble. It was such a
pity that somebody did not have one every week.

Aunt Barbara was very good to Harry Foster, who seemed at first much
older and soberer than the rest; but Betty demanded his services when
she was going to pass the sandwiches again, and Letty had gone to the
house for another pot of chocolate. "I will take the bread and butter