"You don't have afternoon tea in America, I believe?" she said.
"Please pour me a cup and see an American in England make a brave effort," Phil said.
"And what do you think of Truckleford? Is it like what you imagined?" she asked.
He had a more definite impression of Henriette, who had told him about the village as they walked from the station, than of the village itself. It seemed to him like any other English village.
"The great thing is that my ancestors came from here," he said. "I have wondered what the place was like and what they were like. My father had given such rosy descriptions of everything that I was afraid I might be disappointed. But both of you and the vicarage and the garden and the church are just as I wanted you and them to be. It's like home."
The vicar and his wife exchanged glances of satisfaction. They were not displeased with the frank American cousin.
"We come to serious matters," said the vicar. "I passed the recipe for strawberry shortcake which your father sent over to my wife. There my part ends. I wait for her to report."
"Cook has the recipe," said Mrs. Sanford. "I am not responsible for results."
"Nor I," Phil said, "unless I assist in picking the berries. Have they been picked yet?"
"Not yet, I think."