“Good for you!” cried Patty. “Then I’m ready to acknowledge that I like England next best to America.”
“Have you been here long?” asked Grace.
“No, only about two weeks, but I love London better every day, and I know I shall love the English country. Just the glimpse I caught coming in the train from Dover was delightful.”
“You should see the Hartleys’ country place,” declared Tom, with enthusiasm. “It’s a ripping old house, two hundred years old, and all that. And such parks and orchards! Well!”
“I hope you will come to see it, Patty,” said Mabel, a little wistfully, and Patty wondered why the girl’s tone had in it a note of sadness.
But just then, as the music was over, Mrs. Hastings asked them to go to the tea-room, and the group of young people followed in her wake.
“You girls sit here,” said Tom, selecting a jolly-looking alcove, with window-seats and red cushions, “while I stalk some food.”
He was back in a few moments, followed by a waiter, who brought a tray of teacups and plates of sweet cakes.
Tom, himself, bore triumphantly a covered silver dish.
“Muffins!” he announced, in a jubilant voice. “Hot, buttered muffins! Crickets, what luck!”