“That’s a great deal for a person in your station to pay.”
“In my station! I’d have you to know, young man—however, I haven’t the heart to quarrel with you, you look so ill; and after all, it is a good sum to pay for one who travels the roads; but if I must have tea, I like to have the best; and tea I must have, for I am used to it, though I can’t help thinking that it sometimes fills my head with strange fancies—what some folk call vapours, making me weep and cry.”
“Dear me,” said I, “I should never have thought that one of your size and fierceness would weep and cry!”
“My size and fierceness! I tell you what, young man, you are not over civil, this evening; but you are ill, as I said before, and I shan’t take much notice of your language, at least for the present; as for my size, I am not so much bigger than yourself; and as for being fierce, you should be the last one to fling that at me. It is well for you that I can be fierce sometimes. If I hadn’t taken your part against blazing Bosville, you wouldn’t be now taking tea with me.”
“It is true that you struck me in the face first; but we’ll let that pass. So that man’s name is Bosville; what’s your own?”
“Isopel Berners.”
“How did you get that name?”
“I say, young man, you seem fond of asking questions! will you have another cup of tea?”
“I was just going to ask for another.”
“Well, then, here it is, and much good may it do you; as for my name, I got it from my mother.”