"I'm afraid I didn't notice your—er—gown."
"What did I tell you, Hermy?" said Spike, entering with the teapot. "Geoff ain't—I mean, isn't—that kind o' guy—I mean mutt—no, I mean feller. Y' see, Geoff, a girl always thinks a feller's got his lamps—I mean eyes—on their rags—clo'es, I mean. 'S' funny, ain't it? Gee, but I'm hungry!"
"So am I!" said Hermione.
"So am I!" said Ravenslee.
"Why, then," quoth Spike, "I'll tell you what—let's all sit down and eat! I guess I'm full o' brilliant ideas t'night, but this ain't no time for talk—not with that turkey starin' us in the face, it ain't—isn't, I mean. So quit chewin' d' rag an' let's chew d' turk' instead—an' Gee, but that's some brilliant too, I guess!"
So down they sat, and while Hermione presided over the cups and saucers, Ravenslee carved.
"Light or dark meat, Miss Hermione?" he enquired.
"Herm; likes th' light, but a drumstick for mine—an' please don't forget th' stuffin', Geoff!"
"Tea, Mr. Geoffrey?"
"Thanks!" he answered, pausing to watch the curve of her shapely neck as she bent to pour the tea, and to note how her white hand grasped the battered teapot, little finger delicately poised.