He screwed up his nose.
Six anxious eyes followed his every movement; and his movements from the moment the tea entered his mouth were brisk and unusual. He screwed up his nose in a way that at any less important moment would have been funny, went quickly to the window, leaned out, and did exactly what Charlotte had said he would do.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, coming back to the table and taking up the cup; ‘I beg your pardon for that natural if impolite action. I think this tea must be poisoned. Don’t drink any of it, and please ring the bell. I must inquire into this.’
Nobody moved.
‘We aren’t going to drink any,’ said Charles.
‘Oh, don’t inquire!’ said Charlotte anxiously.
‘Was it very horrid?’ asked Caroline. ‘I am so sorry.’
‘Will you kindly ring?’ the Uncle asked coldly. It was a terrible moment, but Caroline met it bravely.
‘No,’ she said; ‘don’t ask the servants, please, uncle; it’s not their fault. We put the stuff in the teapot.’