'Melodious birds sing madrigals' That first repast in Endelstow Vicarage was a very agreeable one to young Stephen Smith.

The table was spread, as Elfride had suggested to her father, with the materials for the heterogeneous meal called high tea--a class of refection welcome to all when away from men and towns, and particularly attractive to youthful palates.

The table was prettily decked with winter flowers and leaves, amid which the eye was greeted by chops, chicken, pie, &c., and two huge pasties overhanging the sides of the dish with a cheerful aspect of abundance.
At the end, towards the fireplace, appeared the tea-service, of old-fashioned Worcester porcelain, and behind this arose the slight form of Elfride, attempting to add matronly dignity to the movement of pouring out tea, and to have a weighty and concerned look in matters of marmalade, honey, and clotted cream.

Having made her own meal before he arrived, she found to her embarrassment that there was nothing left for her to do but talk when not assisting him.

She asked him if he would excuse her finishing a letter she had been writing at a side-table, and, after sitting down to it, tingled with a sense of being grossly rude.
However, seeing that he noticed nothing personally wrong in her, and that he too was embarrassed when she attentively watched his cup to refill it, Elfride became better at ease; and when furthermore he accidentally kicked the leg of the table, and then nearly upset his tea-cup, just as schoolboys did, she felt herself mistress of the situation, and could talk very well.