The shabby footboy, summoned by Pansy—he might, tarnished as to livery and quaint as to type,have issued from some stray sketch of old-time manners, been "put in" by the brush of a Longhi or a Goya—had come out with a small table and placed it on the grass, and then had gone back and fetched the tea-tray; after which he had again disappeared,to return with a couple of chairs. Pansy had watched these proceedings with the deepest interest, standing with her small hands folded together upon the front of her scanty frock; but she had not presumed to offer assistance. When the tea-table had been arranged,however, she gently approached her aunt.