Through the big double door they stepped straight on the stage that filled one end of the tiny auditorium, Miss Toland touching an electric button that flooded the room with light, for Julia’s benefit.  There were wide windows, curtained in crisp dotted white, all about the hall, and a door at the far end that gave, as Julia afterward learned, on a side street.  An upright piano was on the stage, and at one side a flight of three or four steps led down to the hall.  The main floor was broken by tables and benches, a hundred sewing bags of blue linen hung on numbered hooks on the wall, and at the far end there were two deep closets for kindergarten materials and sewing supplies.

The tour of inspection was ended in the kitchen, where Miss Toland put several paper bags on the table, dropped into a chair, and asked Julia also to be seated.

“Well, what do you think of it?” she said, reaching behind her to get a knife from a drawer.  With the knife she cut a spongy crust from a loaf of bread, without fairly withdrawing it from the bag, and subtracting a thin pink slice of ham from some oiled paper in another bag, she folded it into the crust and began to eat it.  “I picnic here—­when I come,” said Miss Toland, unembarrassed.  “You’ve had your dinner?”

“Oh, yes,” said Julia, “but do let me—­” And without further words she took two plates from the dresser, served the ham neatly, cut a slice or two of bread, and removed the bags.

“Ah, yes, that’s much better!” Miss Toland said.  “There’s tea there.  I suppose you couldn’t manage a cup?”

A deep and peculiar pleasure began to thrill through Julia.  She stepped to the entrance hall, laid aside her hat and jacket, and returned to set about tea-making with deftness and quickness.  She found a wilted slice of butter in a safe, and set out cups and sugar beside it.  Miss Toland stopped eating, and watched these preparations with great satisfaction.  Presently she stood up to pin her handsome silk-lined skirt about her hips, and pushed her face veil neatly above the brim of her hat.  The water in the white enamelled kettle boiled, and Julia made tea in a blue Japanese pot.

“This is much better!” said Miss Toland again.  “I get to be a perfect barbarian—­eating alone!” She rummaged in a closet.  “Here’s some jam Sally sent,” said she, producing it.  “They are always sending me pies and fresh eggs and jelly; they are always afraid of my starving to death.”

They began the meal again, and this time Julia joined her hostess, and really enjoyed her tea and bread and jam.  It was dark now, and they drew the shades at the two street windows and turned on the electric light.  Julia knew by some instinct that she need not be afraid of the gray-haired, eccentric, kindly woman opposite; in that very hour she assumed a maternal attitude that was to be the key to her relationship with Miss Toland for many years.  The two, neither realizing it, instantly liked each other.  Never in her rather reserved little life had Julia shown her heart as she showed it in this hour over the teacups.