There was nothing in the appointments of this simple meal to offend the most fastidious taste, and it was a sight to bring a smile to the dolefulest countenance, to see Rosalind and the magician sitting opposite to each other drinking tea. In the midst of it Morgan jumped up and went to the store-room, returning with a tumbler of jelly. "Miss Betty Bishop's jelly," he said. "Do you know Miss Betty?"
"DO YOU KNOW MISS BETTY?"
Rosalind shook her head.
"She makes good things," he added, as he unscrewed the top.
Rosalind's afternoon in the open air had given her an appetite, and she did full justice to the brown bread and jelly, the novelty of the occasion adding a flavor. Through the open door and window came the glow of the sunset, and the air was sweet with some far-off fragrance. All trouble had faded from her face; it was as if in the heart of the Forest she had come upon some friendly inn. Such a small matter as dinner in the house behind the griffins quite escaped her memory.
"Well, upon my word!"
Startled in the act of feeding Curly Q., Rosalind looked toward the door, and saw there a lady in a crisp, light muslin. More than this she did not at once take in, for behind her in the semi-darkness of the shop was Martin's face. The conviction that he was looking for her, and that grandmamma would be vexed, overshadowed everything else. She rose, while the magician greeted the lady as Miss Betty, and offered her a cup of tea.
"I'se been searchin' high and low for you, Miss Rosalind," Martin exclaimed, coming forward.
"I'm dreadfully sorry, Martin; I forgot," said Rosalind.