"Oh, milk, please!" said Hilda. "I am not to take tea till I am twenty-one, Cousin Wealthy, nor coffee either."
"And a very good plan," said Miss Wealthy, approvingly. "Milk is the natural beverage—will you cut that pie, dear, and help Rose, and yourself?—for the young. When one is older, however, a cup of tea is very comforting. None for me, thank you, dear. I have my little dish of milk-toast, but I thought the pie would be just right for you young people. Martha's pastry is so very light that a small quantity of it is not injurious."
"Rose!" said Hildegarde, in tones of hushed rapture, "it is a chicken-pie, and it is all for us. Hold your plate, favored one of the gods! A river, a boat-house, and chicken-pie! Cousin Wealthy, I am so glad you asked us to come!"
"Are you, dear?" said Miss Wealthy, looking up placidly from her milk-toast, "Well, so am I!"
CHAPTER III.
THE ORCHARD.
Next morning, when breakfast was over, Miss Wealthy made a little speech, giving the two girls the freedom of the place.
"You will find your own way about, my dears," she said. "I will only give you some general directions. The orchard is to the right, beyond the garden. There is a pleasant seat there under one of the apple-trees, where you may like to sit. Beyond that are the woods. On the other side of the house is the barnyard, and the road goes by to the village. You will find plenty of flowers all about, and I hope you will amuse yourselves."
"Oh, indeed we shall, Cousin Wealthy!" cried Hildegarde. "It is delight enough just to breathe this delicious air and look at the river."