"
"It wasn't a bit too cold. I love it." Claudia shook her head. "I
don't want any tea until my hands can hold the cup, though. They
_are_ cold." With her foot on the fender, she held out first one
hand and then the other to the blazing fire and laughed in Dorothea's
wide-opened eyes. "What is it, Madam Hostess? Is anything the
matter with me?"
"Your cheeks look like they're painted. They didn't when you went
out."
"Do they?" Claudia put her hands to her face. "The wind did it."
Taking off her hat, she laid it on the table, loosened the hair on
her temples, and sat down on the tapestried footstool near the
hearth. "I'll have some tea now, please. Are there any sandwiches?
I'm starving. Where's your mother, Dorothea?"
"Sick. Got a headache. I'm to pour tea, unless you'd rather." She
got up reluctantly. "Would you?"
"Indeed I wouldn't." Claudia waved her back. "You suit that table
beautifully. When you're a real grown-up lady you won't leave out
anything; but this time you forgot the sugar."
"Did I? I was thinking of something else, I guess." Two lumps were
put in the cup Laine handed her. "Where did you all go this
afternoon?"
Claudia looked at Laine. "I don't know the names of the places
around here. Where did we go?"
"We went--" Laine put his cup on the table and, drawing a chair
closer to the fire, sat down.
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