they
were foraging in the larder. She had found out as much as she wanted
to know, however, and she found out a good deal more before supper was
over. There was something about her that made them all talk to her as
if she were an old friend of theirs instead of the stern jailer whom
they had come to defy. Not that she allowed them for all that to have
the conversation to themselves, for she chatted away herself as busily
as possible; and she made jokes about her impromptu supper until even
Egbert felt at his ease.

'Can any one cut up his chicken without a knife?' she asked. 'There's a
knife short, but it doesn't do to be too particular on an occasion of
this sort, does it? Ah, of course, you have one in your pocket, Peter;
I am used to girls, you see, and a girl never has anything in her
pocket except a handkerchief, and that is generally half out of it.
Now, who is going to carve the beef? Not I, indeed! I have carved the
beef in this household for twelve years, and you needn't suppose I'm going
to miss such an opportunity as this of being idle. Do you know, there
have never been five gentlemen together at my table since I became a
schoolmistress? Think of that, Barbara, and do not wonder that I know
more about girls than tomboys. I'm sorry there isn't a salad, but
there's real chutnee from Bombay and not the other place--wherever that
may be. An old pupil sends me my chutnee; and I always keep it for
grand occasions, like this and the break-up party. Will you come to
our next break-up party? That depends, I suppose, on whether Babs stops
here or not. Ah, well, she will have made up her mind by that time,
won't she? I'm afraid I must forbid you cold pie, Kit, it's poison to
asthma; besides, here are real, stiff, stewed pears. Don't you like
stewed pears that are stewed _stiff_?'

Barbara sat on the hearthrug with Kit, and she tried hard to determine
whether she should run away or not. With Finny revealing herself in
this wonderful new light, and Kit sitting beside her in the comfortable
firelight and sharing her plateful of stewed pears, the problem was
more than she could solve for herself. If this was school, she should
like to stay here always; and if it wasn't, well, she felt too lazy in
the present delicious state of things to worry herself any more about it.

Supper came to an end at last, and Miss Finlayson glanced at the clock.
Egbert took the hint, and pulled Christopher away from the bookshelves,
which h