“I’m a chaperone lady.  I’m chaperoning my Uncle Winthrop and my Cousin Claudia!” In gleeful delight she rocked backward and forward and twisted her hands together tightly.  “I’m sorry mother has a headache, but I certainly am glad I can pour tea for them.  I don’t know why anybody wants to go horseback-riding on a day like this, though; I’d freeze.”  She straightened the embroidered cloth on the table as Timkins put the tray on it, and lighted the lamp under the kettle, and, taking up the tea-caddy, she measured out a generous amount of its contents.

“I’ll be careful and not get burnt up.”  She waved Timkins out.  “They’re coming right in.  It’s the funniest thing about Uncle Winthrop,” she went on, as if to the tea-cups she was arranging.  “He didn’t want to come and see Cousin Claudia, and now he comes here every day.  Wouldn’t it be funny if he wanted her for a sweetheart—­and wouldn’t it be grand!” Her arms were thrown out and then hugged rapturously to her bosom; but instantly her face sobered.  “He can’t have her, though, because she’s somebody else’s.  I wonder if he knows?  He ought to, for Miss Robin says when he wants anything he never gives up until he gets it, and he can’t get her if she’s gotten.  Mother says he just comes here and takes her out and sends her flowers and things because she asked him to be nice to her; but I don’t believe it’s just for kindness.  Gentler men aren’t kind to ladies if they don’t like them.  I believe—­ Heigho, Cousin Claudia!” She waved her hand from behind the table.  “Have you had a nice ride?  Where’s Uncle Winthrop?”

“Coming.”

Drawing off his gloves, Laine came in the library, and as he reached the table he took from Dorothea’s hands the cup of tea just poured and handed it to Claudia.

“Are you frozen?” His voice was slightly worried.  “We shouldn’t have gone—­I did not know how very cold it was.”

“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.”