“I am half disposed to be angry with you, young man,” said Belle.
“And why not entirely?” said I.
Belle made no reply.
“Shall I tell you?” I demanded. “You had no objection to the first part of the speech, but you did not like being called queen of the dingle. Well, if I had the power, I would make you queen of something better than the dingle—Queen of China. Come, let us have tea.”
“Something less would content me,” said Belle, sighing as she rose to prepare our evening meal.
So we took tea together, Belle and I.
“How delicious
tea is after a hot summer’s day, and a long walk!” said she.
“I daresay it is most refreshing then,” said I; “but I have heard people say that they most enjoy it on a cold winter’s night, when the kettle is hissing on the fire, and their children playing on the hearth.”
Belle sighed. “Where does tea come from?” she presently demanded.