“I must say, ole gurl, I never thought you’d turn out such a decent sort.”
They found Aunt Beryl, whose nap must after all have been a very short one, preparing a magnificent muffin-and-crumpet tea in the kitchen.
“Auntie! let me help you,” Lydia cried.
“No, no. You go and take off your things.”
Lydia pulled off her hat and jacket and laid them on the kitchen dresser.
“Are we using the blue tea-service to-day?” she asked calmly.
“But you’re on a holiday, dearie! Don’t you worry about the tea—I’ll manage it. It’s only to get the table laid in the drawing-room.”
Lydia, however, carried her point. It would have made her feel thoroughly uncomfortable to see Aunt Beryl toiling upstairs with the heavy trays, and it would have looked, besides, as though she, Lydia, had grown to think herself too “fine” for household work.
So she carried the best blue china upstairs and set it out on the embroidered tea-cloth, and Aunt Evelyn, who was sitting with Grandpapa, looked at her approvingly and called her a good girl.
After tea she received other compliments.