And off ran Olly, while Mr. Norton and Aunt Emma heaped the wood on the fire, and kept the kettle straight, so that it shouldn’t tip over and spill.
Laying the cloth was delightful, Milly thought. First of all, they put a heavy stone on each corner of the cloth to keep it down, and prevent the wind from blowing it up, and then they put the little plates all round, and in the middle two piles of bread and butter and cake.
“But we haven’t got any flowers,” said Milly, looking at it presently, with a dissatisfied face, “you always have flowers on the table at home, mother.”
“Why, Milly, have you forgotten your water-lilies; where did you leave them?”
“Down by the water,” said Milly. “Father told me just to put their stalks in the water, and he put a stone to keep them safe. Oh! that’ll be splendid, mother. Do give me a cup, and we’ll get some water for them.”
Mother found a cup, and the children scrambled down to the edge of the lake. There lay the lilies with their stalks in the water, close to the boat.
“They look rather sad, mother, don’t they?” said Milly, gathering them up. “Perhaps they don’t like being taken away from their home.”
“They never look so beautiful out of the water,” said mother; “but when we get home we’ll put them into a soup-plate, and let them swim about in it. They’ll look very nice then. Now, Olly, fill the cup with water, and we’ll put five or six of the biggest in, and gather some leaves.”
“There, look! look! Aunt Emma,” shouted Milly, when they had put the lilies and some fern leaves in the middle of the table. “Haven’t we made it beautiful?”
“That you have,” said Aunt Emma, coming up with the kettle which had just boiled. “Now for the tea, and then we’re ready.”