CHAPTER V
"Truly I would the gods had made thee poetical."
As You Like It.
In the Seton's drawing-room a company was gathered for tea.
Ellen had remembered Elizabeth's instructions, and a large fire of logs and coal burned in the white-tiled grate. A low round table was drawn up before the fire, and on it tea was laid—a real tea, with jam and scones and cookies, cake and shortbread. On the brass muffin-stool a pile of buttered toast was keeping warm.
James Seton, who dearly loved his tea, was already seated at the table and was playing with the little green-handled knife which lay on his plate as he talked to Elizabeth's friend, Christina Christie. Thomas and Billy sat on the rug listening large-eyed to Buff, who was telling them an entirely apocryphal tale of how he had found an elephant's nest in the garden.
Launcelot lay on a cushion fast asleep.
"Elizabeth is late," said Mr. Seton.
"I think I hear her now," said Miss Christie; and a moment later the drawing-room door opened and Elizabeth put her head in.
"Have I kept you all waiting for tea? Ah! Kirsty bless you, my dear. No, I can't come in as I am. Just give me one minute to remove these odious garments—positively one minute, Father. Yes, Ellen, bring tea, please."
The door closed again.