“Tea, Sarah.”
“That’s right. One or two words at a time and all goes easy. Tea you shall have in the twinkling of a bedpost. Tea and etceteras.”
Sarah was as good as her word. In ten minutes she had laid a little table and spread it with good things; a big teapot, cups and saucers, and a steaming urn.
Then off she went singing again.
Archie wondered what made her so happy, and meant to ask her when his guests were gone.
“Now, young Squire,” said Harry, “I’ll be the lady; and if your tea isn’t to your taste, why just holler.”
“But don’t call me Squire, Harry; I left that title at home. We’re all equal here. No kings and no cadgers.”
“Well, Bob, when last I saw you in old England, there was a sorrowful face above your shoulders, and I’ll never forget the way you turned round and asked me to look after your mother’s cat.”
“Ah, poor mother! I wish I’d been better to her when I had her. However, I reckon we’ll meet some day up-bye yonder.”
“Yes, Bob, and you jumped the fence and disappeared in the wood! Where did you go?”