As she worked , she hummed a song ; her steps were light and her eyes bright with excitement . Nancy was enjoying herself thoroughly , there was no doubt of that . The spice of mischief in the adventure pleased her mightily . The dishes washed , she hunted up a clean , but yellow and evidently long unused tablecloth out of the sideboard , and proceeded to set the table and get Peter 's tea . She found bread and butter in the pantry , a trip to the cellar furnished a pitcher of cream , and Nancy recklessly heaped the contents of her strawberry jug on Peter 's plate . The tea was made and set back to keep warm . And , as a finishing touch , Nancy ravaged the old neglected garden and set a huge bowl of crimson roses in the centre of the table . `` Now I must go , '' she said aloud . `` Would n't it be fun to see Peter 's face when he comes in , though ? Ha-hum ! I 've enjoyed doing this -- but why ? Nancy Rogerson , do n't be asking yourself conundrums . Put on your hat and proceed homeward , constructing on your way some reliable fib to account to Louisa for the absence of your strawberries . '' Nancy paused a moment and looked around wistfully . She had made the place look cheery and neat and homelike . She felt that queer tugging at her heart-strings again . Suppose she belonged here , and was waiting for Peter to come home to tea . Suppose -- Nancy whirled around with a sudden horrible prescience of what she was going to see ! Peter Wright was standing in the doorway . Nancy 's face went crimson .
For the first time XXXXX her life she had not a word to say for herself .
around as centre in of on tablecloth though to with