nearly turned and
fled. Colouring hotly, and looking the picture of confusion, they could
think of nothing to do or say. But Cousin Charlotte, guessing nothing,
only smiled and looked amused. Their dismay escaped her. "Well, chicks,"
she said, "are you managing to enjoy your holiday?"

"Yes--thank you," they stammered, with as much enthusiasm as they could
muster.

"That's right. Don't overtire yourselves, but have a nice day. Now I
must hurry home to my meal. I expect you have had yours by this time.
Ah, I see," glancing at the empty baskets, "every crumb cleared. This is
wonderful air for giving one an appetite," she remarked, turning to Mrs.
Vercoe, and Mrs. Vercoe agreed; but the children felt that neither of them
understood that fact as they did. It was almost torture to hear Cousin
Charlotte say she was going home to her meal. Their longing to join her
was almost more than they could bear. They were thankful, though, that
she did not ask them how they had enjoyed their lunch, and what Anna's
patties were like, or anything of that sort.

"Well, good-bye, dears, for the time. You won't be late, will you?
It would be wise to have a nice rest before tea-time. Don't eat a lot of
sweets now, will you? After your big lunch you should reserve yourselves
for Anna's big tea. She will expect you to do justice to it."
Then turning to Mrs. Vercoe again to explain, "It is this young lady's
birthday, and Anna has invited them to tea with her, as I, unfortunately,
have to be out."

"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Vercoe, looking at them with amused interest,
"that _will_ be nice. Good-day, miss," as Cousin Charlotte hurried away.

On the counter stood a large tray of buns and tea-cakes--'splits' as they
call them in those parts. They were new, and the smell was perfectly
delicious. Mrs. Vercoe, saying, "I wishes you many returns of the day,
missie," was about to take one up and present it to Poppy, when she stayed
her hand. "If you've just had your dinner you'd rather have a bit of
sweety, I reckon."

"Oh no," gasped poor Poppy, in her desperation almost clutching at the
tempting food. "I--I--thank you very much," she stammered. "I love plain
buns. There's miffing I like so much." But when she had it she hesitated
to begin to eat it; it seemed so selfish and greedy right there under
those three pairs of hungry eyes. She longed to divide it, but did not
like to. Esther, seeing her perplexity, came to her rescu