Maryllia, meanwhile, stepped out on the grass terrace in front of the window, with the dog Plato at her side, and looked long and earnestly at the fair stretch of woodland scenery before her. While she thus stood absorbed, Mrs. Spruce stole covert glances at her with increased wonder and bewilderment. She looked much younger than her twenty-seven years,--her childlike figure and face portrayed her as about eighteen, not more. She stood rather under than over the medium height of woman,--yet she gave the impression of being taller than she actually was, owing to the graceful curve of her arched neck, which rose from her shoulders with a daintily-proud poise, marking her demeanour as exceptional and altogether different to that of ordinary women. Her back being turned to Mrs. Spruce for the moment, that sagacious dame decided that she was 'real stately, for all that she was small,' and also noted that her hair, coiled loosely in a thick knot, which pushed itself with rebellious fulness beyond the close-fitting edge of the dark straw hat she wore, was of a warm auburn gold, rippling here and there into shades of darker brown. Suddenly, with a decided movement, she turned from the terrace and re-entered the morning-room. "Tea ready?" she asked. "Yes, ma'am!--yes, miss--my lady--it's just made--perhaps it's best to let it draw a bit--" "I don't like it strong!" said Maryllia, sitting down, and leisurely taking off her hat; "And you mustn't call me 'my lady.' I'm not the daughter of an earl, or the wife of a knight. If I were Scotch, I might say 'I'm Mclntosh of Mclntosh'; or some other Mac of Mac,--but being English, I'm Vancourt of Vancourt! And you must call me 'Miss,' till I become 'Ma'am.' I don't want to bear any unnecessary dignities before my time! In fact, I think you'd better call me Miss Maryllia, as you used to do when my father was alive." "Very well, ma'am--miss--Miss Maryllia," faltered Mrs. Spruce, fumbling distractedly with the tea-things, and putting cream and sugar recklessly into three or four cups without thinking; "There! Really, I don't know what I am a-doin' of--do you like cream and sugar, my dear?--beggin' your parding--Miss Maryllia?" "Yes, I like cream and sugar both," replied the young lady with a mirthful gleam in her eyes, as she noted the old housekeeper's confusion; "But don't spoil the tea with either! If you put too much cream, you will make the tea cold,--if you put too much sugar, you will make it syrupy,--you must arrive at the juste milieu in a cup of tea! I am VERY particular!" Poor Mrs. Spruce grew warmer and redder in the face than ever. What was the 'juste milieu'? Often and often afterwards did she puzzle over that remarkable phrase. "I think," continued Maryllia, with a dimpling smile, "if you put one lump of sugar in the cup and two brimming tea-spoonfuls of cream, it will be exactly right!"