Here grandmamma summoned them all to tea. She liked every one to sit round the table, and put away work and book, as for a regular meal, and it was rather a long one. Then, when all was over, grandpapa called out, “Come, young ladies, I’ve been wearying for a tune these three months. I hope you are not too tired to give us one.” “O no, no, grandpapa!” cried Beatrice, “but you must hear Henrietta. It is a great shame of her to play so much better than I do, with all my London masters too.” And in music the greater part of the evening was passed away. Beatrice came to her aunt’s room to wish her good-night, and to hear Henrietta’s opinions, which were of great delight, and still greater wonder--grandmamma so excessively kind, and grandpapa, O, he was a grandpapa to be proud of! CHAPTER V. It was an agreeable surprise to Henrietta that her mother waked free from headache, very cheerful, and feeling quite able to get up to breakfast. The room looked very bright and pleasant by the first morning light that shone upon the intricate frost-work on the window; and Henrietta, as usual, was too much lost in gazing at the branches of the elms and the last year’s rooks’ nests, to make the most of her time; so that the bell for prayers rang long before she was ready. Her mamma would not leave her, and remained to help her. Just as they were going down at last, they met Mrs. Langford on her way up with inquiries for poor Mary. She would have almost been better pleased with a slight indisposition than with dawdling; but she kindly accepted Henrietta’s apologies, and there was one exclamation of joy from all the assembled party at Mrs. Frederick Langford’s unhoped-for entrance. “Geoffrey, my dear,” began Mrs. Langford, as soon as the greetings and congratulations were over, “will you see what is the matter with the lock of this tea-chest?--it has been out of order these three weeks, and I thought you could set it to rights.” While Uncle Geoffrey was pronouncing on its complaints, Atkins, the old servant, put in his head. “If you please, sir, Thomas Parker would be glad to speak to Mr. Geoffrey about his son on the railway.” Away went Mr. Geoffrey to the lower regions, where Thomas Parker awaited him, and as soon as he returned was addressed by his father: “Geoffrey, I put those papers on the table in the study, if you will look over them when you have time, and tell me what you think of the turnpike trust.” A few moments after the door was thrown wide open, and in burst three boys, shouting with one voice--“Uncle Geoffrey, Uncle Geoffrey, you must come and see which of Vixen’s puppies are to be saved!” “Hush, hush, you rogues, hush!” was Uncle Geoffrey’s answer; “don’t you know that you are come into civilized society? Aunt Mary never saw such wild men of the woods.”