“All right,” said Mr. Stratford. “You have picked the leaves separately by the hand. I’ll dry them artificially by heat in a shallow iron pan, and Sherman can roll them with the finger or in the palm of his hand, to bring them into the right shape.”
He drew his shovel from the fire as he spoke, and after knocking off the loose ashes, threw a handful of the yapon leaves upon it.
“These leaves won’t roll up,” said Lieutenant Sherman, after they had been drying a few minutes on the shovel. “They crack and unroll themselves.”
“Yes, but they are old leaves, see how thick they are, and the berries are red and ripe. Here by chance is a young one; the book says, you know, that they value the young leaves most. What better shape could you have than that—just the roll of a tea-leaf.”
“And now,” said Mr. Stratford, “that they are artificially dried in a shallow iron pan, Sherman, put the coffee-pot on, and let’s all take tea.”
The turn affairs had taken roused in me rather more than usual curiosity, and as my mug was filled, I examined the tea with rather more than customary care. The aroma was that of poor tea, and the resemblance was quite striking, making me more curious as to the taste. I cooled it down as rapidly as possible and took a sip. There was a woody taste, but through this came the unmistakable flavor of the tea. “Who knows but this is a discovery?” I thought, and so I said emphatically:
“This is TEA.”
“It is amazingly like it, though not very good.”
“It is the tea-plant itself. Sherman, turn back to the article and read the botany.”
The lieutenant re-opened the book and again read.