Euphemia screamed to me to come to her; the father was standing on his cabin roof, shouting something to me; the women in the other boat were violently talking among themselves; some of the little children were crying; the girls were hanging to the ladies, and all the boys were clambering on board our boat. It was a time of great excitement, and something must be instantly said by me. My decision was quick.
"Have you any tea?" I said, addressing the old gentleman.
"Tea!" he roared. "What do you mean by that?"
"We have plenty of coffee on board," I answered, "but some of our party can't drink it. If you have any tea, I should like to borrow some. I can send it to you when we reach a store."
From every person of the other party came, as in a chorus, the one word, "Tea?" And Euphemia put her pale face out of the cabin, and said, in a tone of wondering inquiry, "Tea?"
"Did you bang into us this way to borrow tea?" roared the old gentleman.
"I did not intend, of course, to strike you so hard," I said, "and I am sorry I did so, but I should like to borrow some tea."
Euphemia whispered to me:—
"We have tea."
I looked at her, and she locked her lips.