have a bright idea,' she said in her pleasant, friendly way, 'why
should you not have tea in the garden? You have a nice little lawn, and
it will not be too sunny near the house. If Biddy will only be good
enough to boil the kettle I will run and fetch a teapot. It is no use
hunting in those hampers, you are far too tired, Mollie. We will just
lift out this little table. I see it has flaps, so it will be large
enough; and if you can find a few teacups and plates, I will be back in
a quarter of an hour with the other things.'

Audrey did not specify what other things she meant; she left that a
pleasing mystery, to be unravelled by and by; she only waited to lift
out the table, and then started off on her quest.

The Wrights could not give her half she wanted; but Audrey in her own
erratic fashion was a woman of resources: she made her way quickly to
Woodcote, and entering it through the back premises, just as her sister
was walking leisurely up to the front door, she went straight to the
kitchen to make her raid.

Cooper was evidently accustomed to her young mistress's eccentric
demands. She fetched one article after another, as Audrey named them: a
teapot, a clean cloth, a quarter of a pound of the best tea, a little
tin of cream from the dairy, half a dozen new-laid eggs, a freshly-baked
loaf hot from the oven, and some crisp, delicious-looking cakes, finally
a pat of firm yellow butter; and with this last article Audrey
pronounced herself satisfied.

'You had better let Joe carry some of the things, Miss Audrey,'
suggested Cooper, as she packed a large basket; 'he is round about
somewhere.' And Audrey assented to this.

Geraldine was just beginning her Blake story, and Mrs. Ross was
listening to her with a troubled face, as Audrey, armed with the teapot,
and followed by Joe with the basket, turned in again at the green gate
of the Gray Cottage.

CHAPTER III

THE BLAKE FAMILY AT HOME

'Her manner was warm, and even ardent; her sensibility seemed
constitutionally deep; and some subtle fire of impassioned
intellect apparently burnt within her.'--DE QUINCEY.

There was certainly a tinge of Bohemianism in Audrey's nature. She
delighted in any short-cut that took her out of the beaten track. A
sudden and unexpected pleasure was far more welcome to her than any
festivity to which she was bidden beforehand.

'I am very unlike Gage,' she said once to her usual confidant, Captain
Burnett. 'No