Biddy was gorging herself behind a tree trunk, the juncos and thrushes were eating seeds and cake crumbs scattered over the lawn, while the rabbit with a bland air surveyed the pleasant scenery and regaled himself on juicy lettuce leaves.
The younger girl was bending affectionately over her pet garter-snakes, whose names I found out were Squamata and Flash-In-The-Pan.
The raccoon was under Mrs. Devering's chair and occasionally stuck out his black paws for tid-bits that she handed to him.
Mr. Devering had moved to his wife's end of the table, and was drinking coffee with her. She motioned to Dallas to come beside her, and there was a plate of shortcake for him.
"Will you have some milk?" she asked, laying her hand on a pitcher. "We don't give our young people coffee here."
The boy was feverish, and drank three glasses. He was very happy to be with the grown people, and kept rolling his eyes doubtfully at the children.
The eldest girl was trundling the tea-waggon back and forth to the kitchen, occasionally speaking impatiently to the chipmunk, who would get in her way.
"Chippie Sore-Feet," she said, "your pouches are packed. Get out of this or I shall step on you."
Chippie chattered angrily, but went away.
"You little miser," she called after him. "Here it is only July, and you have enough winter stuff buried for ten chipmunks."