“Oh, but you must have a jam sandwich,” cried Morris with the pseudo-heartiness characteristic of such occasions.
“Well—if you won’t all think me fearfully, fearfully greedy——”
Minnie hesitated and looked wildly round her, but as no one appeared in the least aghast at the prospect of her depredations among the jam sandwiches, she deprecatingly took the smallest one, murmuring, “Thank you muchly—this is fearful gluttony—‘just one more crust,’ as the boy said on the burning deck.”
The spasmodic conversation died away.
Presently Hazel said:
“I’ve found the place where we got that white heather last year, mother. There are some more roots there, if you want to take them home for the rock garden.”
“Come on and let’s dig then,” said Bertha vigorously, rising as she spoke.
Morris shot Hazel a glance of gratitude.
He longed to be alone with Rosamund, even while thinking that he was dreading the pain of bidding her good-bye.
He looked at Miss Blandflower, but Hazel Tregaskis was quicker than he.