Tea, you see, had become rather a settled sort of meal, even for mamma, though she and Geordie and I had a sort of little dinner or supper, I scarcely know which to call it, later in the evening. But nursery meals had of course to be given up at the Hut, as there was no nursery to have them in, so Esmé and Denzil did not think five o'clock tea a small affair by any means. And whether it was that the being so very close to the sea had sharpened our appetites, or that Hoskins and Margery between them made such very good 'plain cakes,' I can't say, but I certainly don't remember ever having nicer teas or enjoying them more than at the Hut.
'Well,' began Geordie, after we were all seated comfortably at the table, 'what is the interesting thing you have to tell about, Ida? Has it anything to do with the—our tenants,' he went on, with a tone of satisfaction in his voice; 'I may call them that, for that's what they are.'
'Yes, of course it has,' I said. 'You might have guessed that much without being a—what is it you call a man witch—oh yes, a wizard, as you knew mamma and I were there this afternoon, and I began to tell you they were going to send us something. It's the jolliest thing you ever saw, Dods—isn't it, mamma? Do help me to describe it.'
Between us we managed to do so pretty well, and I could see that Geordie was really very pleased about it. But he was in one of those humours that boys have more often than girls, I think—of not showing that he was pleased—'contradictious,' Hoskins calls it, and of trying to poke out something to find fault with or to object to.
'Hum, hum,' he kept murmuring; 'yes, oh yes, I know the sort of thing. But there's one point you've forgotten, Ida, and mamma too, haven't you?—where is this wonderful chair affair to be kept?' and he looked round the table in a provoking sort of way. 'It won't always be fine dry weather, and certainly it wouldn't get in at the door here by your description, even if we had any room for it to stand in.'
I suppose my face fell, and I think mamma, who is as quick as lightning to understand one's little changes of feeling, was rather vexed with Geordie, who is—or was rather—he has got out of those half-teasing ways wonderfully, now that he is older—tiresome sometimes, though he is so good, for she said quickly—
'We shall find some place or plan something about it. Don't be afraid, Ida dear. It is a beautiful present. Geordie will thoroughly appreciate it when he sees it.'
'Is it big enough to hold both Denny and me together?' asked Esmé.
'It's big enough to hide you, so that you couldn't be seen at all, you small person,' said mamma laughing.
I felt sure mamma would plan something, so that we need not feel we had got a white elephant in the shape of a garden chair. All the same, Geordie's objection did worry me a little. I kept wondering, when I woke in the night, where we could keep Miss Trevor's present, and hoping that we should not have to send it back after all.