Ida could hardly believe her senses when she found herself by the little old lady's own fireside. How dainty her room was! How full the bookshelves were! How many pictures hung upon the walls! Above a little table, on which were innumerable pretty things, hung two pictures. One of these was a portrait of a man who, from his apparent age, might have been the old lady's son, but that he was not at all like her. He might have been good-looking, though, Ida thought, and he had a kind, intelligent face, full of energy and understanding, and that is better still. Close under his portrait hung a little sketch. It was of a road running by a river. Opposite to the river was a house and some trees. It was a pretty sketch, Ida thought, and the road looked interesting, as some roads do in pictures--making one wish to get into the frame and walk down them to see whither they lead. Below the sketch were some curious-looking characters written in ink, and of these Ida could make nothing. Tea was soon ready. It was spread out on a little table by itself. The white cloth seemed to Ida the whitest she had ever seen, the silver and glass glittered, the china was covered with a rosebud pattern, and a reading-lamp threw a clear soft light over all. The tea, the cream, the brown bread and butter, the fresh eggs, and the honey--all were of the very best--even the waiting-maid was pretty, and had something of the old lady's smile. When she had finished her duties by taking away the things, and putting the tea-table into a corner, the two friends drew up to the fire. "You look better for tea, my child," said the little old lady. "Do you eat enough at home?" "As much as I can," said Ida, "but I am more hungry when somebody else has tea with me. There very seldom was anybody till you came though. Only once or twice Lady Cheetham's housekeeper has been to tea. She is Nurse's father's first cousin, and 'quite the lady,' Nurse says. So she won't let her have tea in the kitchen, so both she and Nurse have tea in the nursery, and we have lots of tea-cakes and jam, and Nurse keeps saying, 'Help yourself, Miss Ida! Make yourself at home, Mrs. Savory!' And, you know, at other times, she's always telling me not to be all night over my tea. So I generally eat a good deal then, and I often laugh, for Nurse and Mrs. Savory are so funny together. But Mrs. Savory's very kind, and last time she came she brought me a pincushion, and the time before she gave me a Spa mug and two apples." Mrs. Overtheway laughed, too, at Ida's rambling account, and the two were in high good-humour. "What shall I do to amuse you?" asked the little old lady. "You couldn't tell me another story?" said Ida, with an accent that meant, "I hope you can!" "I would, gladly, my dear, but I don't know what to tell you about;" and she looked round the room as if there were stories in the furniture which perhaps there were. Ida's eyes followed her, and then she remembered the picture, and said: