"But wait a bit," he continued. "Touch that bell, Harry. Pull hard; it doesn't ring else. My diggins are not much account. Here comes Sarah, singing. Bless her old soul! I'd been dead many a day if it hadn't been for Sarah."
"Look here, Sarah."
"I'm looking nowheres else, Mister Broadbent; but mind you this, if there's too much talking, I'm to show both these gents downstairs. Them's the doctor's orders, and they've got to be obeyed. Now, what's your will, sir?"
"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.