“Oh, mamma,” he exclaimed, “I thought you were never coming. I have made the tea to perfection. Oh, and here’s Charlotte too. How jolly! It isn’t often that we three get a cosy tea together like this.”
“Are you warmer now, my boy?” his mother asked. “You are very bluey-white-looking still.”
For Jerry, unable to run or even to walk fast, was apt to catch bad colds in chilly weather.
“I’m all right, thank you, mother. I’m quite hungry. Look, Charlotte,” and he raised the cover of a neat little china dish on the table, “isn’t that nice? I bought it for a present to mother. I got it from the old muffin-man—he was just passing. That’s why mamma invited me to tea, I expect.”
Charlotte’s face relaxed. It was impossible to look and feel gloomy with such a welcome.
“It isn’t fair for me to come too,” she said in her own pleasant voice; “one muffin isn’t too much for two.”
“Nor for one, when it’s a proper tea,” said Jerry.
“But this isn’t, you know. This is only a slight refection. We’re going to have our proper school-room tea as usual of course.”
“And how have you got on to-day, Charlotte?” asked her mother, when the muffin and the tea had been discussed. She was a little anxious to hear, though careful not to let it be seen that she was so.
Charlotte’s face clouded over.