"But it's like a grand dinner party," urged Maud.
"And so it is, a very grand dinner party. Do you see the little roses, and the napkins folded like lilies? The servants have just been awfully nice over it all, and the button-holes are ready for the men and a little posy for the ladies. I'm just a wee bit afraid about the children, but Chum says I'm to trust her."
"May I play something for them on the violin?" asked Maud eagerly.
"Oh, how lovely, yes; but—not one of your long fugues, please. Something they'd all like, just a brisk jig or imitation of bagpipes."
Maud looked upon herself as a good player, but she nobly hid her disgust.
"I see, a good stirring dance."
"Yes, just at first, something that will unloose their tongues, and that they can talk all through it till the dance begins. Now, Uncle Evas, it's your turn. You must practise your speech. Mr. Waycott, just sit there to represent the men, and Maud will do the stuck-ups, and I'll do the women. It must suit us all, uncle. You can just say how awfully glad you are to see them, and that Toney Whitburn is too, and that—no, I'll make my own, you'd go wrong."
Happily for Sir Evas a footman entered at the moment, and announced that Lady Dove said would Sir Evas go at once, and see her on business.
CHAPTER VII.
THE VISITORS ARRIVE.