"Will you give Mr. Pamflett a cup of tea, aunt?" said Phœbe.
"No," said Jeremiah, "not from your aunt, if you please; from you. Then I sha'n't want any sugar in it. Anything the matter with you, miss?" He addressed this question to Fanny, from whom an uncertain sound of laughter was proceeding.
"Something in my throat," replied Miss Fanny.
"Shall I slap you on the back, miss?"
"No, no!" cried Fanny, suddenly quite sobered.
Jeremiah drank his tea quite slowly, looking alternately from one to the other. There was a dead silence in the room.
"Shall my niece pour you out another cup?" asked Mrs. Lethbridge, politely.
"If it will oblige her," said Jeremiah, with cold malignity, "she may."
Without a word Phœbe poured out the tea and handed it to him. He drank it even more slowly than he had done the first cup. When it was finished, Mrs. Lethbridge said, "There is no more in the pot."
"That is a pity," said Jeremiah, "because we are enjoying ourselves so."