Peter in snowy attire, benign and magnificent, attended to their wants, and the feast proceeded, vastly enjoyed by both. Tessa had never been so fêted in all her small life before.
When, at the end of the repast, to an accompaniment of nuts and sweetmeats, Bernard poured her a tiny ruby-coloured liqueur glass of wine, her delight knew no bounds.
"I've never enjoyed myself so much before," she declared. "What a ducky little glass! Now I'm going to drink your health!"
"No. I drink yours first." Bernard arose, holding his glass high. "I drink to the Princess Bluebell. May she grow fairer every day! And may her cup of blessing be always full!"
"Thank you," said Tessa. "And now, Uncle St. Bernard, I'm going to drink to you. May you always have lots to laugh at! And may your prayers always come true! That rhymes, doesn't it?" she added complacently. "Do I drink all my wine now, or only a sip?"
"Depends," said Bernard.
"How does it depend?"
"It depends on how much you love me," he explained. "If there's any one else you love better, you save a little for him."
She looked straight at him with a hint of embarrassment in her eyes. "I'm afraid I love Uncle Everard best," she said.
Bernard smiled upon her with reassuring kindliness. "Quite right, my child. So you ought. There's Tommy too and Aunt Stella. I am sure you want to drink to them."