The parlor maid appeared in the doorway. “Tea is served,” she announced. We followed her to the garden entrance. “Everything here is so _quiet_!” I said as we went through the gate. “Oh!” I cried, “this is as perfect as the house!” and gazed entranced at the long vistas of box-lined paths, the grouped battalions of clipped yews, and the massed planting of cosmos, chrysanthemums, and flaming dahlias. My friend smiled. “You should see it in August when the white lilies make a mist of blossoms along the walls, and forget-me-nots are reflected in the pool,” she said. “And the poppies!” cried Daphne. Almost sharply her mother denied: “Not poppies. Daphne. Never again poppies! I’ve given orders for the poppies to be weeded out as fast as they come up.” She gave careful attention to the making of the tea. “Not such good tea as we had in the Orient,” she apologized. We spoke of our winter in Hong-Kong and the visiting dignitaries. “Wonder what has become of the Austrian duchess who wore the silver dress and huge diamonds at the dinner at Government House?” or, “Did you ever hear again of Mrs. Carson, who ran away with that young German? I was told that they are living in Tasmania,” or, “How did the Llewellyn marriage turn out? You remember we didn’t think it would be a success?” And recalled the terrible typhoon which had come up so suddenly that hundreds of unprepared, helpless sampans and junks were swept into the port of lost ships. “I’ll never forget the abject terror of some of those Chinese sailors who, as the junks swept by, were chanting their appeal to the sea-god,” I said. She agreed soberly, remembering the tragic day. “I like to think of that incongruous Scotch regiment with the bagpipes, marching gayly along the walks bordered with tall blossoming poinsettias that flamed against the brown banks,” she supplemented. We relived a summer in the mountains of Japan, and laughed over the memories of various mishaps when we had tried, unavailingly, to “hustle the East.” “I’ve never been able to look a hard-boiled egg in the eye since we patronized those Chuzenji tea houses,” I said; “if all the embryo chickens I devoured were suddenly to appear--” “Heaven forbid!” agreed my friend. We laughed together. * * * * *