Directly she heard the tea bell she hastened her steps almost rudely. She was determined that Gainah should not take the head of the table, and she managed to slip on to the oak stool behind the urn just as the two elder women came along the corridor.
Gainah sat down at the side, shaking her hands and vibrating her head with anger. But Mrs. Turle smiled approval.
“You must find a young lady in the house a great help,” she said innocently, as she sat down, spreading her thick silk skirt flat beneath her. “Nancy always pours out for me.”
Pamela was sulky. She hated what she called a “sit-down” tea. Tea was not a meal; it was an interlude, a good way of helping out an idle afternoon.
Jethro on the high stool at the end was hospitably carving a ham. The smiling housemaid kept coming with fresh plates of toasted tea-cake, preserve, or buns.
“You must give me the recipe for these rice cakes,” Mrs. Turle said.
“Two cups of rice flour,” returned Gainah solemnly.
“You beat your butter to a cream, of course?”
“Yes. Two eggs.”
“That is very economical. We have hardly any eggs. The hens are all getting broody again, and I must say an October brood is not worth hatching. I wish Evergreen would let me have a non-setting breed.”