"I told her that if she ever was in trouble she was to go to you."
"You think she will go to London then?"
"No."
"Then why did you say that?"
"To show her that I expected she would. I don't know women who do what you expect them to."
I was just about to laugh at that, when the gate upon the drive opened, and through the golden hedge of barberry we saw the Miss Fennells walk up towards the house.
"What have they come for?" I asked.
"They often come on Sunday afternoons," she replied, easily. "They won't stay long—you needn't be afraid. They have to drink five other cups of tea at five other different houses."
A moment later came the tea with the Miss Fennells demurely following.
"It almost looks as if they'd brought it with them," said I.