No one was visible to receive them, but the lowtable stood in the middle of the walk, with four chairsand a foot-stool around it. A pretty set of green andwhite china caused the girls to cast admiring looksupon the little cups and plates, while Ben eyed thefeast longingly, and Sancho with difficulty restrainedhimself from repeating his former naughtiness. Nowonder the dog sniffed and the children smiled, forthere was a noble display of little tarts and cakes,little biscuits and sandwiches, a pretty milk-pitchershaped like a white calla rising out of its green leaves,and a jolly little tea-kettle singing away over thespirit-lamp as cosily as you please.

 

　　"Isn't it perfectly lovely?" whispered Betty, whohad never seen any thing like it before.

 

　　"I just wish Sally could see us now," answered Bab,who had not yet forgiven her enemy.

 

　　"Wonder where the boy is," added Ben, feelingas good as any one, but rather doubtful how othersmight regard him.

 

　　Here a rumbling sound caused the guests to looktoward the garden, and in a moment Miss Celia appeared,pushing a wheeled chair, in which sat herbrother. A gay afghan covered the long legs, abroad-brimmed hat half hid the big eyes, and a discontentedexpression made the thin face as unattractive as thefretful voice, which said, complainingly, --"If they make a noise, I'll go in. Don't see whatyou asked them for.""To amuse you, dear. I know they will, if youwill only try to like them," whispered the sister, smiling,and nodding over the chair-back as she came on,adding aloud, "Such a punctual party! I am allready, however, and we will sit down at once. Thisis my brother Thornton, and we are all going to bevery good friends by-and-by. Here 's the droll dog,Thorny; isn't he nice and curly?"Now, Ben had heard what the other boy said, andmade up his mind that he shouldn't like him; andThorny had decided beforehand that he wouldn'tplay with a tramp, even if he cut capers; goboth looked decidedly cool and indifferent when MissCelia introduced them. But Sancho had better mannersand no foolish pride; he, therefore, set them a goodexample by approaching the chair, with his tail wavinglike a flag of truce, and politely presented hisruffled paw for a hearty shake.

 

　　Thorny could not resist that appeal, and patted thewhite head, with a friendly look into the affectionateeyes of the dog, saying to his sister as he did so, --"What a wise old fellow he is! It seems as if hecould almost speak, doesn't it?""He can. Say 'How do you do,' Sanch," commanded Ben,relenting at once, for he saw admiration in Thorny's face.

 

　　"Wow, wow, wow!" remarked Sancho, in a mildand conversational tone, sitting up and touching onepaw to his head, as if he saluted by taking off his hat.

 

　　Thorny laughed in spite of himself, and Miss Celiaseeing that the ice was broken, wheeled him to hisplace at the foot of the table. Then, seating the littlegirls on one side, Ben and the dog on the other, tookthe head herself and told her guests to begin.

 

　　Bab and Betty were soon chattering away to theirpleasant hostess as freely as if they had known her formonths; but the boys were still rather shy, and madeSancho the medium through which they addressedone another. The excellent beast behaved with wonderfulpropriety, sitting upon his cushion in an attitude of suchdignity that it seemed almost a libertyto offer him food.

 

　　A dish of thick sandwiches had been provided for his especialrefreshment; and, as Ben from time to time laid one on hisplate, he affected entire unconsciousness of it till the wordwas given, when it vanished at one gulp, and Sancho againappeared absorbed in deep thought.

 

　　But, having once tasted of this pleasing delicacy, itwas very hard to repress his longing for more; and, inspite of all his efforts, his nose would work, his eyekept a keen watch upon that particular dish, and histail quivered with excitement as it lay like a trainover the red cushion. At last, a moment came whentemptation proved too strong for him. Ben waslistening to something Miss Celia said; a tart layunguarded upon his plate; Sanch looked at Thornywho was watching him; Thorny nodded, Sanch gaveone wink, bolted the tart, and then gazed pensivelyup at a sparrow swinging on a twig overhead.

 

　　The slyness of the rascal tickled the boy so muchthat he pushed back his hat, clapped his hands,and burst out laughing as he had not done beforefor weeks. Every one looked round surprised, andSancho regarded them with a mildly inquiring air, asif he said, "Why this unseemly mirth, my friends?"Thorny forgot both sulks and shyness after that,and suddenly began to talk. Ben was flattered by hisinterest in the dear dog, and opened out so delightfullythat he soon charmed the other by his livelytales of circus-life. Then Miss Celia felt relieved, andevery thing went splendidly, especially the food; forthe plates were emptied several times, the little tea-potran dry twice, and the hostess was just wonderingif she ought to stop her voracious guests, when somethingoccurred which spared her that painful task.

 

　　A small boy was suddenly discovered standing inthe path behind them, regarding the company withan air of solemn interest. A pretty, well-dressed childof six, with dark hair cut short across the brow, arosy face, a stout pair of legs, left bare by the sockswhich had slipped down over the dusty little shoes.

 

　　One end of a wide sash trailed behind him, a strawhat hung at his back, his right hand firmlygrasped a small turtle, and his left a choice collectionof sticks. Before Miss Celia could speak, the strangercalmly announced his mission.

 

　　"I have come to see the peacocks.""You shall presently --" began Miss Celia, but gotno further, for the child added, coming a step nearer,--"And the wabbits.""Yes, but first won't you --""And the curly dog," continued the small voice,as another step brought the resolute young personagenearer.

 

　　"There he is."A pause, a long look; then a new demand with thesame solemn tone, the same advance.

 

　　"I wish to hear the donkey bray.""Certainly, if he will.""And the peacocks scream.""Any thing more, sir?

 

　　Having reached the table by this time, the insatiableinfant surveyed its ravaged surface, then pointed a fatlittle finger at the last cake, left for manners, and said,commandingly, --"I will have some of that.""Help yourself; and sit upon the step to eat it,while you tell me whose boy you are," said MissCelia, much amused at his proceedings.

 

　　Deliberately putting down his sticks, the child tookthe cake, and, composing himself upon the step, answeredwith his rosy mouth full, --"I am papa's boy. He makes a paper. I helphim a great deal.""What is his name?""Mr. Barlow. We live in Springfield," volunteeredthe new guest, unbending a trifle, thanks to the charmsof the cake.

 

　　"Have you a mamma, dear?""She takes naps. I go to walk then.""Without leave, I suspect. Have you no brothers orsisters to go with you?" asked Miss Celia, wonderingwhere the little runaway belonged.

 

　　"I have two brothers, Thomas Merton Barlowand Harry Sanford Barlow. I am Alfred TennysonBarlow. We don't have any girls in our house, onlyBridget.""Don't you go to school?""The boys do. I don't learn any Greeks andLatins yet. I dig, and read to mamma, and makepoetrys for her.""Couldn't you make some for me? I'm very fondof poetrys," proposed Miss Celia, seeing that thisprattle amused the children.

 

　　"I guess I couldn't make any now; I made somecoming along. I will say it to you."And, crossing his short legs, the inspired babe halfsaid, half sung the following poem: (1)"Sweet are the flowers of life,Swept o'er my happy days at home;Sweet are the flowers of lifeWhen I was a little child.

 

　　"Sweet are the flowers of lifeThat I spent with my father at home;Sweet are the flowers of lifeWhen children played about the house.

 

　　"Sweet are the flowers of lifeWhen the lamps are lighted at night;Sweet are the flowers of lifeWhen the flowers of summer bloomed.

 

　　"Sweet are the flowers of lifeDead with the snows of winter;Sweet are the flowers of lifeWhen the days of spring come on.

 

　　(1) These lines were actually composed by a six-yearold child.

 

　　"That's all of that one. I made another one whenI digged after the turtle. I will say that. It is avery pretty one," observed the poet with charmingcandor; and, taking a long breath, he tuned his littlelyre afresh: