busily all the afternoon, was gay with nasturtiums and asters, and
overhead hung a crop of the rosiest apples ever seen. Minx, the Persian
cat, wandered round, waving a stately tail and mewing plaintively for
her saucer of milk. Derry, the fox terrier, barked an enthusiastic
greeting.

"Come along, you poor starving wanderers!" said Mrs. Saxon. "The
kettle's boiling, and we'll make the tea in half a moment. Isn't it
glorious here? Queenie and I have been digging up potatoes, and we quite
enjoyed it. We felt exactly as if we were 'on the land.' How is your
cold, Hereward? Ingred, you look tired, child! Sit down and rest while
Queenie fetches the teapot."

Ingred sank into a garden-chair with much satisfaction. Wynchcote might
not be Rotherwood, but it looked an uncommonly pretty little place in
the September sunshine. To live there would be like a perpetual picnic.
Mother and Queenie looked so complacently smiling that it seemed
impossible to grouse, especially with newly-baked scones and rock-cakes
on the tea-table.

The men kind of the family had not yet returned home. Mr. Saxon and
Egbert rarely left their office before six, and Athelstane had that day
gone over to Birkshaw on the motor-bicycle, to arrange about the medical
course which he was to take at the University. There was plenty of news,
however, to be exchanged. Ingred had to give a full account of her
experiences at school and hostel, and to hear in return the various
achievements in the shape of home-carpentry, mending, making, and
altering which are always an essential part of settling into a new
establishment.