"I could have brought a bunch of flowers from our little garden," said
Sarah.
"It would be coals to Newcastle, my dear. We make a feature of 'em. Job Legg understands the ways of 'em, and you see the result. You can pick all day from my herbaceous border and not miss what you take."
"Nobody grows sweet peas like yours."
"Job again. He's mastered the sweet pea in a manner given to few. He'll bring out four on a stalk, and think nothing of it."
"Mister Best, our foreman, is wonderful in a garden, too," answered
Sarah. "And a great fruit grower also."
"That reminds me. I've got a fine dish of greengages for this party. In the season I fling in a bit of fruit sometimes. It always comes as a pleasant surprise to tea people that they ain't called to pay extra for fruit."
She went her way and Sarah turned to a lesser entertainment under preparation in a shady corner of the garden.
A girl of the house was already busy there, and the guests had arrived.
They were hot and thirsty. Some sat on the grass and fanned themselves.
A young man did juggling feats with the croquet balls for the amusement
of two young women.
Not until half-past six came any pause, but after that hour the tea drinkers thinned off; the big party had come and gone; the smaller groups were all attended to and tea was served in Mrs. Northover's private sitting-room behind the bar for herself, Sarah and the barmaid. Being refreshed and rested, Mrs. Northover turned to the affairs of her niece. At the same moment Mr. Legg came in.
"Sit down and have some tea," said Mrs. Northover.