Dora allowed herself to be pacified, though she felt she had more than one grievance against Aldred that day. She had refrained from any reproaches when her eyebrows were singed, but she was annoyed at her disfigurement, and thought that the various misadventures might have been avoided. She was considerably consoled, however, when she opened the oven door and caught sight of her scones. They had risen beautifully, and were done to a turn, just brown enough on the top, and nicely baked through. "I believe they'll taste all right, when they're split in halves and buttered," she murmured, as she took them out of the tin. "Help me with the potato cakes, Aldred," suggested Mabel, who was anxious to make up for Dora's snubbing. "You can stamp them out, and I'll do the rolling. And somebody fill the kettle! It is a quarter to four, and the girls are sure to be so punctual!" "She'd better clean out the preserving pan!" grunted Dora. "It can't be left in this state. Miss Drummond will be round again at six, to inspect before we go. Those who make a mess must tidy up." Aldred saw the force of the argument. She did not want to shirk the disagreeable task, nor put it off on to anybody else. Though she held rather too good an opinion of herself, it was not one of her failings to try to avoid her fair share of any work on hand. She began at once to clean the pan, and toiled away without asking any help from the others, though it was a lengthy and troublesome performance. She was obliged to scrape the burnt sugar off with a knife, and then scrub away with sand and brick dust and soap. It took her fully half an hour, and made her hands quite sore. She had just finished, and put the humiliating row of jam pots back on to the scullery shelf, when a loud rap-tap sounded on the door. "They're here--ten minutes too soon!" cried Mabel. "Go and let them in, Aldred. I'm taking out the potato cakes, and Dora's laying the table." The five visitors arrived in the very highest of spirits, and with the best of appetites. They overstepped the bounds of politeness by sniffing the air appreciatively as they entered, and announcing themselves ready to eat anything and everything. "I feel like a ragged-school child going to a treat!" announced Ursula. "As for Lorna, she's been banting in preparation; she hardly took any dinner." "It's a libel!" protested Lorna. "I had quite as much as Ursie. What have you made? We're dying to know!" "Where are your manners? Please to remember you're visitors. You're not to ask; you must wait until we bring the things on to the table." Three hostesses and five guests seemed to completely fill the tiny sitting-room. "It's so delightfully minute!" declared Phœbe Stanhope. "When I was a little girl, I always longed to make myself small, like Alice in Wonderland, and have tea in my own dolls' house. Now I feel as if I were really doing it at last!"