“That’s swell,” Sellers observed. “Count me in. Put an extra cup in the pot, Bertha. Go ahead and close the office, Elsie.”
Sellers entered the room and Elsie Brand, glancing helplessly at Mrs. Cool, pushed the door shut.
Bertha said, “My God, you cops are all alike. The smell of food brings you around like flies. It doesn’t make any difference what time of day it is — morning, noon, afternoon or night—”
“That’s right,” Sellers interpolated. “Only I didn’t know there was going to be food. I thought it was just tea. Food makes it that much better. Got some nice assorted cookies, Bertha? The kind with sweet fillings in the centre? I love those.”
Bertha glared at him.
“Don’t let your water boil away,” Sellers said. “Go ahead and get your tea, Bertha.”
Bertha glanced at Elsie. “Where is the tea, Elsie?”
“Why, I–I— gosh, Mrs. Cool, come to think of it, I think we used up the last yesterday. I remember now, you told me to get some more, and I forgot it.”
“Damn it,” Bertha blazed. “Can’t you ever remember anything? That’s twice you’ve forgotten things. I told you positively to get some more tea yesterday afternoon. I remember using up the last and throwing the carton away.”
“I remember it now,” Elsie admitted shamefacedly. “I forgot it this morning.”