There she was, sitting opposite Miss Gallup on one slippery horsehair "easy chair," while her hostess, much beshawled, cushioned and foot-stooled, sat on the other. "My dear," Miss Gallup said confidentially, "Em'ly-Alice has gone to the surgery for my cough mixture and some embrocation, and she takes such a time. I'm certain she's loitering and gossiping, and she knows I like my cup of tea at four, and you here, and all; if it wasn't that my leg's seem to crumble up under me I'd go and get it myself." "Dear Miss Gallup, don't be hard on Em'ly-Alice," Mary pleaded; "it's such a lovely afternoon I don't wonder she doesn't exactly hurry. As for tea, let me get you some tea----" "I could," Eloquent interposed hastily, "I'm sure I could," and rose somewhat vaguely to go to the kitchen. "Let us both get it," Mary cried gaily, "we'll be twice as quick." And before Miss Gallup could protest they had gone to the kitchen and she could hear them laughing. Mary was thoroughly enjoying herself. For three weeks she had poured out tea for her father solemnly at five o'clock and been snubbed for her pains. Here were two people who liked her, who were glad to see her, who thought it kind of her to come. No girl can be wholly unconscious of admiration; nor, when it is absolutely reverential, can she resent it, and Mary felt no displeasure in Eloquent's. They could neither of them cut bread and butter. It was a plateful of queerly shaped bits that went in on the tray; but there was an egg for Miss Gallup, and the tea was excellent. Miss Gallup began to feel more leniently disposed towards Em'ly-Alice. "She's done for me pretty well on the whole," she told Mary. "Doctor, he wanted me to have the parish nurse over to Marle Abbas, but I don't hold with those new-fangled young women." "She's a dear," said Mary; "mother thinks all the world of her." "May be, may be," Miss Gallup said dryly; "but when you come to my time of life you've your own opinion about draughts. And as for that constant bathin' and washin', I don't hold with it at all. A bed's a bed, I says, and not a bath, and if you're in bed you should stay there and keep warm, and not have all the clothes took off you to have your legs washed. How can your legs _get_ dirty if you're tucked in with clean sheets, in a clean room, in a clean house. When I haves a bath I like it comfortable, once a week, at night in front of the kitchen fire, and Em'ly-Alice safe in bed. No, my dear, I don't hold with these new-fangled notions, and Nurse Jones, she worries me to death. I 'ad 'er once, and I said, never again--whiskin' in and whiskin' out, and opening windows and washin' me all over, like I 'was a baby--most uncomfortable I call it." The clock on the mantelpiece struck five, Mary jumped up. "I must fly," she exclaimed, "it's time for father's tea; I've been enjoying myself so much I forgot all about the time."