Lynn followed her, and presently they came back, with the Royal Worcester plate piled generously with cakes, and a decanter of the port that was famous throughout East Lancaster.
With a smile upon her lips, the old lady leaned forward, into the moonlight, glass in hand. The brim of another touched it and the clear ring of crystal seemed carried afar into the night.
“To your good health, madam.”
“And to your prosperity.”
“This has been very charming,” said the Doctor, as he brushed away the crumbs, “and now, my dear Miss Iris, may we not hope for a song?”
“Which one?”
“‘Annie Laurie,’ if you please.”
Iris went in, and Margaret made a move to follow her. “Don’t go, mother,” said Lynn, “let’s stay here.”
“I’m afraid Aunt Peace will take cold.”
“No, dearie, I have my shawl. Let me be young again, just for to-night, with no fear of draughts or colds. Midsummer has never hurt anyone, and, as Doctor Brinkerhoff says, the good fairies are abroad to-night.”