“Well, what is it now?” said the woman, in a vinegary tone. “I can’t spend all my time waiting on you.”
“My dear madam, no,” said Gunson, in the most gentlemanly way; “I only wanted to say that a cup of good tea in this wilderness is a thing that one may offer a lady, and as that is thoroughly prime China tea that I have brought up from ’Frisco, will you do us the honour of trying a cup?”
The change in the woman’s countenance was wonderful. It softened; then there was a smile, and her face looked quite pleasant.
“Well, really, that’s very good of you,” she said. “I’ll go and get myself a cup. A drop of good tea is such a treat out here.”
She hurried out of the room, and Gunson laughed.
“Here, Gordon,” he said, “get out that sugar you’ll find in my bag. We must do it well with company.”
I brought forth a tin of sugar and placed it on the table, and Gunson having tidied it a little by throwing the bacon rind away, and spreading the mugs about, we sat listening to the sputtering of the bacon and watching the flickering of the flames, which in the increasing darkness began to gild and tinge the rough boarded walls with red.
Just then the woman came back, with two cups, a saucer, and another tin.
“I thought I’d bring you a cup to dip with,” she said, “and a drop of milk. A neighbour of ours ten miles up the river has got two cows, and he brings me a little milk when he comes down to buy stores. He was here this morning, so it’s quite fresh.”
A few minutes later, and our landlady had finished her cup of tea, which she declared to be “lovely,” while upon a second one being dipped she took it up and carried it off, saying she was too busy to stay.