"We are not going to have a party," Mrs. Blake assured them, "but we want to ask some of the ladies in to meet you and your aunt," she spoke to Phyllis. "Are all the girls in Old Chester like the Blakes?" Phyllis inquired, laughing. Janet made a little face. "They are," she replied dismally. Phyllis put her arm around her and hugged her tight. "You poor darling," she said; "no wonder you wanted a sister. Well, you've got one, and we'll have a good time at their party. You see if we won't." When they reached home a comical tableau greeted them. Tom was sitting on the stone bench in the garden holding a plate of milk between his knees. From one side Sir Galahad lapped daintily and from the other, one ear cocked suspiciously, Boru's pink tongue was greedily bespattering his black muzzle. CHAPTER XVII AT THE RECTORY FOR TEA The dining-room table at the rectory was laden with sandwiches and baskets of cake. Mrs. Blake sat at one end pouring tea, and Mildred and Alice took turns with the chocolate pot at the other. Mrs. Blake had not been entirely truthful when she had said that she was not going to give a real party, for the people who walked in and out of the two rooms gave an air of festivity that was rivaled only by fairs and weddings in Old Chester. Miss Carter dressed in the palest of gray satin gowns was busy renewing her many acquaintances, and Janet and Phyllis were the center of a laughing group of girls and boys. Phyllis had on a dainty afternoon dress of dark blue chiffon, which contrasted oddly with the more elaborately made summer dresses on the other girls. Janet wore her customary white piqué dress with its broad belt of black patent leather. Mrs. Page believed in simplicity, and as far back as Janet could remember she had always owned just such a dress. It served to wear to church and to the occasional meetings of the Ladies' Aid Society that met in her grandmother's room. She was conscious this afternoon that its plainness marked her among the other girls, and she looked at Phyllis with just a touch of envy in her soft brown eyes. Aunty Mog from far across the room saw the look, and made a mental note of it. There was a very small percentage of boys in comparison with the girls, but among these Harry Waters stood out. His hair was brushed back sleek against his bullet-shaped head, and the dotted Windsor tie, that his mother had insisted on his wearing, accentuated his fatness. Phyllis greeted him upon his arrival like an old friend and insisted on his talking to her, although it was very apparent that Harry was miserably embarrassed. Janet, who was busy at that moment talking dogs to the old country doctor, watched them, and wondered that Harry still carried with him his air of mystery. She determined to find out what was the matter with him before the end of the afternoon. She had not long to wait, before Harry gave her a clew. He refused refreshments!