"Say, Geoff—get busy!" said Spike wistfully. "I know the teapot's a bit off on looks, but I broke the best one and—"
"I didn't even notice the teapot, Spike," said Ravenslee, meeting Hermione's quick, upward glance.
"Oh, cheese it, Geoff, here you've sat with your fork in th' turk' an' your knife in th' air, starin' at that teapot a whole minute."
"No, Spike, no! I was only thinking that tea never tastes quite right unless poured out by a woman's hand—and the fairer the hand the better the tea!"
"Which means—just what, Mr. Geoffrey?" laughed Hermione.
"Why, that Spike and I are about to drink the most delicious tea in the world, of course."
"I'd rather be eatin' that turk' when you've sawed me off a leg," sighed Spike. "I say—when you have!"
"Ah, to be sure!" said Ravenslee, turning his attention to his carving again, while Hermione bowed her golden head above the teacups.
"Gee, but she cuts tender!" quoth Spike; "that bird sure has the Indian sign on me!"
"Sugar, Mr. Geoffrey?"