"These are very small cups," said Mr. Seton, as he handed his to be filled again. "You will have to add that to your list of the faults of the clergy--a feminine fondness for tea." The conversation drifted back, led by Mr. Stevenson, to the great and radical differences between England and Scotland. To emphasize these differences seemed to give him much satisfaction. He reminded them that Robert Louis Stevenson had said that never had he felt himself so much in a foreign country as on his first visit to England. "It's quite true," he added. "I know myself I'm far more at home in France. And I don't mind my French being laughed at, I know it's bad, but it's galling to be told that my English is full of Scotticisms. They laughed at me in London when I talked about 'snibbing' the windows." "They would," said Elizabeth, and she laughed too. "They 'fasten' their windows, or do something feeble like that. We're being very rude, Arthur; stand up for your country." "I only wish to remark that you Scots settle down very comfortably among us alien English. Perhaps getting all the best jobs consoles you for your absence from Scotland." "Not a bit of it," Elizabeth assured him. "We're home-sick all the time: 'My feet they traivel England, but I'm _deein'_ for the North.' But I'm afraid Mr. Stevenson will look on me coldly when I confess to a great affection for England. Leafy Warwick lanes, lush meadowlands, the lilied reaches of the Cherwell: I love the mellow beauty of it all. It's not my land, not my wet moorlands and wind-swept hills, but I'm bound to admit that it is a good land." "Yes," said Mr. Stevenson, "England's a beautiful rich country, but----" "But," Elizabeth finished for him, "it's just the 'wearifu' South' to you?" "That's so." "You see," said Elizabeth, nodding at Arthur Townshend; "we're hopeless." "Do you know what you remind me of?" he asked. "Something disgusting, I can guess by your face." "You remind me of a St. Andrew's Day dinner somewhere in the Colonies.... By the way, where's Buff?" "Having tea alone in the nursery, at his own request." "Oh! the poor old chap," said Arthur. "May I go and talk to him?"