The Rosary | Page 8

Meldrum livery,
hurried down from the terrace, carrying folding tea-tables, with which
they supplemented those of rustic oak standing permanently under the
cedar. One, promptly returned to the house; while the other remained
behind, spreading snowy cloths over each table.

The macaw awoke, stretched his wings and flapped them twice, then
sidled up and down his perch, concentrating his attention upon the
footman.
"Mind!" he exclaimed suddenly, in the butler's voice, as a cloth, flung

on too hurriedly, fluttered to the grass.
"Hold your jaw!" said the young footman irritably, flicking the bird
with the table-cloth, and then glancing furtively at the rose- garden.
"Tommy wants a gooseberry!" shrieked the macaw, dodging the table-
cloth and hanging, head downwards, from his perch.
"Don't you wish you may get it?" said the footman viciously.
"Give it him, somebody," remarked Tommy, in the duchess's voice.
The footman started, and looked over his shoulder; then hurriedly told
Tommy just what he thought of him, and where he wished him; cuffed
him soundly, and returned to the house, followed by peals of laughter,
mingled with exhortations and imprecations from the angry bird, who
danced up and down on his perch until his enemy had vanished from
view.
A few minutes later the tables were spread with the large variety of
eatables considered necessary at an English afternoon tea; the massive
silver urn and teapots gleamed on the buffet-table, behind which the old
butler presided; muffins, crumpets, cakes, and every kind of sandwich
supplemented the dainty little rolled slices of white and brown
bread-and-butter, while heaped-up bowls of freshly gathered
strawberries lent a touch of colour to the artistic effect of white and
silver. When all was ready, the butler raised his hand and sounded an
old Chinese gong hanging in the cedar tree. Before the penetrating
boom had died away, voices were heard in the distance from all over
the grounds.
Up from the river, down from the tennis courts, out from house and
garden, came the duchess's guests, rejoicing in the refreshing prospect
of tea, hurrying to the welcome shade of the cedar;-- charming women
in white, carefully guarding their complexions beneath shady hats and
picturesque parasols;--delightful girls, who had long ago sacrificed
complexions to comfort, and now walked across the lawn bareheaded,
swinging their rackets and discussing the last hard-fought set; men in

flannels, sunburned and handsome, joining in the talk and laughter;
praising their partners, while remaining unobtrusively silent as to their
own achievements.
They made a picturesque group as they gathered under the tree,
subsiding with immense satisfaction into the low wicker chairs, or on to
the soft turf, and helping themselves to what they pleased. When all
were supplied with tea, coffee, or iced drinks, to their liking,
conversation flowed again.
"So the duchess's concert comes off to-night," remarked some one. "I
wish to goodness they would hang this tree with Chinese lanterns and,
have it out here. It is too hot to face a crowded function indoors."
"Oh, that's all right," said Garth Dalmain, "I'm stage-manager, you
know; and I can promise you that all the long windows opening on to
the terrace shall stand wide. So no one need be in the concert-room,
who prefers to stop outside. There will be a row of lounge chairs placed
on the terrace near the windows. You won't see much; but you will hear,
perfectly."
"Ah, but half the fun is in seeing," exclaimed one of the tennis girls.
"People who have remained on the terrace will miss all the point of it
afterwards when the dear duchess shows us how everybody did it. I
don't care how hot it is. Book me a seat in the front row!"
"Who is the surprise packet to-night?" asked Lady Ingleby, who had
arrived since luncheon.
"Velma," said Mary Strathern. "She is coming for the week-end, and
delightful it will be to have her. No one but the duchess could have
worked it, and no place but Overdene would have tempted her. She will
sing only one song at the concert; but she is sure to break forth later on,
and give us plenty. We will persuade Jane to drift to the piano
accidentally and play over, just by chance, the opening bars of some of
Velma's best things, and we shall soon hear the magic voice. She never
can resist a perfectly played accompaniment."

"Why call Madame Velma the `surprise packet'?" asked a girl, to whom
the Overdene "best parties" were a new experience.
"That, my dear," replied Lady Ingleby, "is a little joke of the duchess's.
This concert is arranged for the amusement of her house party, and for
the gratification and glorification of local celebrities. The whole
neighbourhood is invited. None of you are asked to perform, but local
celebrities are. In