They found tea laid for them in the dining-room. It was a pleasant room, long and low-ceilinged, with oak beams and high panelled doors. At one end of it stood an old-fashioned dresser, its shelves decorated with precious china and silver. On the walls were pictures of bygone Hunters in various costumes, Marjory's favourite being a dashing young cavalier, with hat and feather, collar and frills of costly lace, and all the other appointments of the period. Marjory used to amuse herself trying to imagine her Uncle George dressed in such a style. There was the admiral in cocked hat and gold lace; the minister in black gown and orthodox white bands; there was the brave young soldier who had died for Prince Charlie; and there were many others, most of them celebrated in some way, for the Hunters had been a race of strong men.
Lisbeth, resplendent in a black silk dress, with muslin apron and cap in honour of the occasion, stood at the door to meet the girls. On such a day as this, Jean, the young maid, gave place to her superior.
"This is Blanche Forester," said Marjory by way of introduction; and turning to Blanche, "This is dear old Lisbeth."
"I'm pleased to see ye," said the old lady graciously, nodding with satisfaction, her eyes fixed upon Blanche's flower-like face. "Ye're a bit ower white like for health," she remarked.
Shyness was not a failing that afflicted either Lisbeth or Peter: they were both apt to say exactly what they thought, regardless of time, place, or person.
Marjory was delighted by Lisbeth's evident approval of her friend, and felt very grateful to the old woman for putting on her "silk," which only came out on great occasions; and when she saw the table daintily spread with all sorts of good things, her satisfaction was complete.
"If ye want onything, just ring the bell and I'll come," said Lisbeth, and she rustled slowly out of the room. That was what Marjory called Lisbeth's "silk walk." Dressed in her ordinary gown she bustled and clattered about, but in the silk she was as stately and dignified as a duchess.
"I _am_ glad it isn't a ladies' tea," said Blanche as they took their seats, Marjory at the head of the table to "pour out."
"I mean where there's nothing to sit up to--no place to put your cup and plate except your own knee; and if you want to blow your nose or cough, you're sure to spill your tea; and the bread and butter is always so thin that it drops to pieces before you can fold it up. But this is _lovely_; and it is so nice to have it all to ourselves!" And she settled herself comfortably in her chair.