Frome’s caravan, Hyacinth called out, “Look! There is Tom! I begin to think he prefers your home to ours!” “ ’Tis my fault,” Mr. Frome called back, smiling. “I give him pieces of ham.” “You are a very nice man,” Violet said, drawing close to him and looking up into his face intently. He was brewing a pot of tea, which he served to Hetty and Lucy. “I do not know which I prefer, your coffee or your tea,” Lucy said. “Both are wonderful.” She took a sip. “How do you manage it? What is your secret?” “Indeed, yes, Mr. Frome, “ Hetty said. “You must tell us, for no matter how well Cook prepares either I vow yours excels hers by a mile!” “It is very simple,” he said, smiling. “Anything brewed or cooked in the open air has tenfold the flavor.” Hetty nodded. “I believe you must be right, which reminds me, the children have brought you something.” “Indeed?” He glanced at the girls, who were seated on the grass and playing with Tom. His black tail swished back and forth quickly as Eugenia dragged a long duck feather in front of him.
