"Yes."
"I haven't. I haven't eaten a blessed thing since mornin'."
"If you would like, I will get you something, Stephen."
"That's the way to talk, old lady. I 'cept—hic—your kind invitation."
"My mother isn't an old lady," said Grace, who was as ready to stand up for her mother as for her brother.
"My mother isn't an old lady!" repeated Stephen, with drunken gravity. "What is she, then? She isn't an old gentleman. Of course not."
"Hush, Grace!" said Mrs. Palmer. "It's of no consequence whether I am called an old lady or not. Would you like some tea, Stephen?" she inquired.
"You haven't got any whisky in the house, have you, mother?"
"No; we don't keep it. Tea will be much better for you."
In a few minutes a cup of tea, some cold meat, and bread and butter were placed before Stephen, who ate and drank with eager relish. It was true, as he had said, that he had not broken his fast since morning, though he had drank since then more than was good for him.