e visitors, despite the general disarrangement,
and the everlasting arrival of packing-chests and boxes. Hampers of
flowers, hampers of fruit, crates of china and glass, rolls of red
baize, boxes containing wedding-cake, confectionery, dresses, presents--
in they came, one after another, in an unending stream, until to get
across from the front door into the dining-room was like running the
blockade, and wisps of straw were scattered all over the house. Norah
and Hilary swathed themselves in big white aprons and unpacked from
morning till night: a more interesting task than it sounds, for the
boxes were full of pleasant surprises, and Mr Rayner, Raymond, and
their father played the part of "dress circle," and kept everyone
laughing with their merry sallies. It was a cheery, bustling time, for
everyone was in good spirits and prepared to enjoy the happy-go-lucky,
picnic life. Lunch and dinner were movable feasts, held either in
dining- or morning-room, or in the garden itself, as proved most
convenient, and when afternoon tea was served three days before the
wedding, the cups were scattered about on the top of packing-chests in
the hall, the cake basket hung on the hat rail, and the teapot was
thrust out of reach of harm beneath the oak bench. Lettice was lying
down upstairs, but all the rest of the household were gathered together,
the visitors provided with chairs in honour of their position, Norah
seated on the stairs, Raymond straddle-leg over the banister, Mr
Bertrand and Geraldine lowly on buffets, while Hilary was perched on the
top of a huge packing chest, enveloped in a pink "pinafore," and looking
all the prettier because her brown hair was ruffled a little out of its
usual immaculate order.

"I wish we could have tea like this every day!" cried the Mouse, drawing
a long breath of enjoyment. "May we have it like this every day,
father, instead of properly in the drawing-room?"

"Ah, Mouse, I see you are a Bohemian at heart, for all your quiet ways!
I agree with you, my dear, that it would be quite delightful, but the
difficulty is that we could not persuade people to shower presents and
hampers upon us in the ordinary course of events. It takes a wedding,
or some celebration of the kind, to start such a flood of generosity."

"Well, may we have tea like this when Hilary is married?" insisted
Geraldine, with a gravity which caused a hearty laugh.

"Ask Hilary, my dear!" said Mr Bertrand mischievously;