"Taller than your father! I like the Sanfords to be tall," he said to Phil. "And, Henriette, now I have you I'll not let you go all summer. You can do your painting here." He gave her a fond glance. "And you, Helen, you will have to stay if Henriette stays." CHAPTER III AN INVITATION The tea-table, a damask moon on the lawn of the vicarage, was laid awaiting their arrival and the white-haired woman who presided welcomed Phil with the simple cordiality of a near relative. "You don't have afternoon tea in America, I believe?" she said. "Please pour me a cup and see an American in England make a brave effort," Phil said. "And what do you think of Truckleford? Is it like what you imagined?" she asked. He had a more definite impression of Henriette, who had told him about the village as they walked from the station, than of the village itself. It seemed to him like any other English village. "The great thing is that my ancestors came from here," he said. "I have wondered what the place was like and what they were like. My father had given such rosy descriptions of everything that I was afraid I might be disappointed. But both of you and the vicarage and the garden and the church are just as I wanted you and them to be. It's like home." The vicar and his wife exchanged glances of satisfaction. They were not displeased with the frank American cousin. "We come to serious matters," said the vicar. "I passed the recipe for strawberry shortcake which your father sent over to my wife. There my part ends. I wait for her to report." "Cook has the recipe," said Mrs. Sanford. "I am not responsible for results." "Nor I," Phil said, "unless I assist in picking the berries. Have they been picked yet?" "Not yet, I think." "I'll bring the basket," said Helen Ribot. "We'll all help, if that is allowed." "You wouldn't fully appreciate it if you did not help," Phil assured her. "No, I'll bring the basket," Henriette insisted. "If one did not watch you you'd never let any one do anything for one's self." "I foresee a success," said Phil. He was thinking of the auspices more than of the cook's part as he watched Henriette pass around the corner of the house. When she reappeared his glance happened to be resting on the same spot. She stopped, waving her hand in a way that let the sleeve fall back from the graceful forearm to signify that she was ready, most enchantingly ready, for the strawberry shortcake adventure. "Isn't she beautiful!" Helen exclaimed. "Aren't you proud of your seventeenth cousin?" "Helen!" admonished Mrs. Sanford. "You must not say such things." "Oh, but I agree, quite enthusiastically!" said Phil.