But to-day was not Sunday--where could all the servants be?
Janet, looking very nice in the bright blue gown her little son had admired, placed the guest on her right hand.

To her left, Timmy, with snorts and wriggles, settled himself.

The others all sorted themselves out; Betty sat the nearest to the door, on the right of her father,--lovely Rosamund on his left.
Timmy stood up and mumbled out a Latin grace.

How it brought back Radmore's boyhood and early manhood days! But in those days it was Tom, a simple cherubic-looking little boy of seven, who said grace--the usual "For what we are going to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful!" The stranger--how queer to think he was a stranger here, in this familiar room--did not care for the innovation.
They all sat down, and Radmore began to eat his soup, served in a covered cup.

It was very good soup, and as he was rather tired and hungry, he enjoyed it.