So Cissy told her always to come to see her when she could find no one else at home.
“We shall not be such gad-abouts as other people, Miss Berwick, for we have not a great many acquaintances, and besides I am not very strong,” she said.
“Oh, within a fortnight you’re sure to know every one here,” said Sophy: “and I assure you you had better fix a day.”
“Well, then, you choose one for me.”
“Let in see,” considered Sophy; “ours is Thursday. Then on Wednesday the band plays, and I know several people have Mondays and Tuesdays. Suppose you take Fridays?”
“So be it,” replied Cissy; “then on Fridays, if you have nothing better to do, I shall hope to see you here, to join Marion and me in our afternoon tea, which, when it is fine enough, we can partake of on the terrace. I haven’t much of a garden, but what there is looks pretty enough from the end of the terrace. “
“That’s a capital idea, Mrs. Archer. Tea on the terrace. You may expect to see Sophy and me every Friday without fail,” said Captain Berwick. And then the visitors departed.
“Oh, how tired I am, May, “exclaimed Cissy, curling herself up in a corner of the sofa. “I am not in love with the Berwicks. I like the son the best. Ring for tea, Marion. I must have a cup, or I shall faint.”
So they consoled themselves for the fatigues of the afternoon. Before-dinner tea was as yet hardly a domestic institution; but Cissy, be it observed, had a mind in advance of the age.
“How I hate old Indians!” she exclaimed. “Marion, if ever you catch me talking Indian ‘shop,’ I give you leave to cut my acquaintance.”