So, instead of going on to the Hall, here was another detention. But Tom was a good-natured lad; he was not _needed_ at the Hall, and here at the cottage he was of real assistance. After the young man had been away nearly a quarter of an hour, he returned with a small box full of portions of tapers, and some entire, and sundry little sparkling ornaments that had furnished the tree the preceding Christmas, and had been cast aside, but saved by the prudent and frugal Mrs. Mountstephen. “And here, Polly,” said Tom, “here’s a spotted dog in china, as stood on my mantelshelf, that little Bessie be welcome to. You can set it under the tree. Now I’ll clap the tree mores into a tub, and then I’m off to the Hall.” When Tom, reinvested in collar and coat, arrived at the Lodge and inquired for Isabella, he learnt, which did not much surprise him, that she had gone forward. So he went to the Hall by himself, not greatly concerned at being late. He knew that all who were invited would not be able to arrive punctually. There would be two “sitting-downs” to supper, and he would be in time for the second. When he arrived, he looked about him for Isabella, and saw her seated beside the Scotch gardener, who was helping her to trifle. With a little difficulty he made his way behind the chairs, in and out among the servants who were waiting on the guests, to where Isabella was dipping into the trifle. “So sorry, Bella; I couldn’t help it,” said he. “De-li-ci-ous!” said Bella. “I beg your pardon?” “I was speaking to Mr. MacSweeny.” “I only want to say that I was unavoidably detained.” “The jam is strawberry,” said Bella. “Whole strawberries, from our own garden,” said MacSweeny. “I’m very fond of strawberries,” observed Bella. “So am I,” said the Scotch gardener. “Have some more. I’ll remember you in the strawberry time and send you up the first dish I ripen. Of course, I ripen ’em early—in the greenhouse. You shall have some—as soon as they are fit to be picked.” “How good of you, Mr. MacSweeny!” “Not at all; I live but to oblige, and _you_”—he looked round at her—“for you I would do anything.” “Bella,” said Tom over her chair, “I really could not help it.” “Will you please to move, Mr. Mountstephen; you are jogging my chair.” “Do you like grapes?” asked MacSweeny. “I rather flatter myself on my grapes. I am able to keep them, too, so well. My large white Muscats—but there, you shall have some. I’ll send you up a really choice bunch. I think the second sitters down are coming in now. Miss Isabella, if you have done, we will rise and let the others take our places. Here, you, Mountstephen, can have my seat. If you have brought Mary Mauduit I have no doubt she can have Miss Frowd’s chair.”