The House That Grew. Molesworth Mrs.

we kept thinking of new bits to it, each saying something which made the other think of something else, till by ten o'clock we began to feel as if it were all quite settled – 'cut and dry.'

      The very last thing I called out to Geordie as we ran in was about a certain old breakfast set of china we had espied in one of our visits to the garret.

      'Yes,' I was saying, 'those willow pattern cups and things would do beautifully. It wouldn't matter their being odd, for then mamma wouldn't mind if some got broken. And very likely, Doddie, things will get broken, more than – '

      'What are you talking about, my dear child?' said mamma's voice, and, looking round, I saw that she was just coming out of the drawing-room on her way upstairs to get ready for church. 'You don't mean to say that your tea-things at the hut are all broken?'

      'Oh no, no, mamma dear,' I replied in a great hurry, and feeling myself grow red, though I don't think she noticed it; 'they are all right – none broken, and only one saucer chipped. But – I was only saying – we might need more some time.'

      'Ah, well!' said mamma, with a little sigh, 'not at present, at any rate.'

      And oh how I wished I could tell her of the plan at once! But of course it was best to wait a little.

      I shall never forget that morning at church, and how awfully difficult it was to give my attention. I found myself counting up the things we should need to make the hut comfortable, even while my voice was saying the responses quite correctly, and any one noticing me would very likely have thought I was being quite good and listening rightly. Dods, whom I glanced at now and then, was looking very grave but not unhappy. I felt sure he was being much better than I – I mean about listening to what he heard and thinking of the words he said – though afterwards he told me that he too had found it difficult.

      'What was most bothering me,' he said, 'was about the new rooms – the old parish room, I mean. What do you think, Ida – should it be made into a dining-room and drawing-room, or – '

      'Oh no,' I interrupted, 'certainly not. The two front ones looking to the sea must decidedly be the sitting-rooms – the one to the left of the porch, in front of the kitchen, must be the dining-room, and the big dressing-room, the one we have always meant to be a real bedroom, must be the drawing-room. It is quite a nice, large room, and behind it, the 'messy' room must be yours, Dods, which leaves the parish room to be divided for mamma and Esmé and me. Denzil can be with you – there's plenty of room.'

      'But,' said Geordie, 'you're forgetting the servants?'

      My face fell at this – I should have said that this conversation was on our way down to the hut that afternoon. We could not talk much before then, as we drove back from church with the others, but we set off as soon as we could after we had had dinner.

      'Yes,' I said, 'I was forgetting them altogether, and what's more, Geordie, I haven't the least idea who they are to be, or how many we should have.'

      'We must let mamma settle that of course,' he replied. 'Hoskins will be one, anyway. Still – it's a pity we can't propose some place for them, Ida. It makes the whole plan seem rather unfinished and – childish.'

      'Like the man who built a house for himself and when it was all finished found he had forgotten a staircase!' I said, half laughing, but feeling rather mortified all the same.

      George did not at once reply. He was thinking. We were close to the hut by this time, and he did not say anything till we had unlocked the door and put down our packages and looked round us.

      Everything was just exactly as we had left it the evening before, but somehow everything seemed different!