Part 9 (2/2)

”All right,” said Dan, ”I will wait; and I hope I never have a headache till it happens.”

CHAPTER VII.

THE ”ROVER” TAKES THEM HOME.

Tony was nearly asleep on Kitty's shoulder, and Kitty herself was distinctly drowsy, but the arrival of the teapot and the ham and eggs roused them effectually. Kitty took her place before the tea-tray, Dan before the hot dish, Betty got as near the cream as she could, and Tony drew a chair close to Kitty, and very soon their spirits began to rise to their highest, and their tiredness vanished. The tea was refres.h.i.+ng, the ham and home-made bread and everything on the table were perfectly delicious, and they ate, and ate, and talked and laughed until Kitty wondered how it was that Mrs. Henderson did not come in and ask them to be quiet. They had all, at the same moment, reached that mood when everything one says, or thinks, or does, sounds or seems amusing; and they laughed and laughed without being able to check themselves, until at last Kitty found herself with her head in the tea-tray, while Dan hung limply over the back of his chair, and Betty and Tony laid their heads on the table and held their aching sides.

”Oh dear!” cried Kitty, straightening herself and trying to compose her face. ”They say it is unlucky to laugh so much. I wonder if it is true. It does seem hard, doesn't it?”

The thought sobered them a little, and they gave themselves up to their tea.

”I never know,” said Betty thoughtfully, after a somewhat long silence, ”whether it is better to begin with ham and end with cream and jam, or to begin with cream and then have the ham, but it seems to me that it is just the same whichever I do--I _can't_ eat much of both. I have tried and tried.”

”I call that a real affliction,” said Dan soberly. ”Of course there is just a chance that you may grow out of it in time, but it is hard lines.”

”Yes,” sighed Betty, ”it really is,” and lapsed into quietness.

”Another time,” she said at last, very gravely, ”I think I shall come twice, and not have both at the same tea.”

”Perhaps you would like Mrs. Henderson to save you some till to-morrow,”

suggested Dan ironically.

”No--o,” said Betty seriously, ”I don't think I will. I don't expect I shall want any more as soon as to-morrow, but--”

”You aren't feeling ill, are you?” asked Kitty anxiously, as she studied Betty's face.

”No--o,” answered Betty slowly, ”not ill; but it's funny that what is so nice to think about before tea isn't half as nice after.”

”If I were you,” said Dan pointedly, ”I would go and sit in the meadow for a bit, and keep very still until it is time to go home.”

”I think I will,” said Betty gravely, and started; but they had all finished their meal by this time, and following Dan's advice, strolled out once more to the scented garden, and down through the sloping meadow to the riverside. It was nearly time to wind their way homewards, but they must have a little rest first, and one more look at the river and the woods, so they perched themselves about on the old tree roots, which formed most comfortable and convenient seats--all but Dan, who seemed to prefer to perch on a rock which stood in the middle of the river, which was shallower here and wider. To get to it he had to take off his shoes and stockings and wade, which perhaps made up for the uncomfortableness of the seat when he reached it, and soon sent him wading back through the cool rippling water again.

The handkerchiefs of the family having been commandeered in place of a towel, and Dan's feet clad once more, they all sat on in a state of lazy, happy content, playing ”Ducks and Drakes,” or talking, until at last Kitty, looking at the sky, saw with a shock that the sun was already setting, and realizing that they still had the long walk home before them, roused the party to sudden activity.

They were all on their feet in a moment. ”I think we had better get out on the road by this gate, instead of going back to the house again,” she said, hurrying towards one at the end of the field which brought them at once out on to the road.

”But hadn't you better pay Mrs. Henderson?” questioned Betty, as she panted after her hurrying sister.

”Oh!” Kitty stood still and gasped, ”I had quite forgotten! How stupid of me! I am glad you remembered, Betty,” and they all streamed back to the farm again and into the little garden, more heavily scented than ever now as the flowers revived in the dew and cooler air.

Mrs. Henderson came out to them quite smilingly, and apparently not at all concerned about their debt to her. In her hand she was holding a flower-pot with a st.u.r.dy-looking little rose bush flowering in it.

The children eyed it admiringly. It had two delicate pink roses in full bloom on it, and several little buds. ”I was wondering, missie,” she said, turning to Betty, and holding out the rose to her, ”if you would be pleased to have this little plant; 'tis off my old monthly rose that I've had for so many years. I planted this one last year and it has come on nicely. Would you be pleased to accept it?”

Betty gasped. For a moment she was so surprised and overjoyed as to be speechless. ”Me! For me!” she cried at last. ”Oh, how lovely!

Thank you _so_ much, Mrs. Henderson. I'll keep it always, and 'tend to it myself every day. I have never had a plant of my own before, and I shall love it,” and Betty took her rose in her arms and hugged it in pure joy.

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