"Indeed, Mr. Jones," she said, "I must do as Mrs. Brown bids me, and she says your four shilling black is not equal to his four, and, indeed, Mr. Jones, I am sorry to say, that others say so too."
Mr. Jones did not reply one word; he fell into a brown study; at the close of it he sighed, and looking up, said earnestly:
"Miss Gray, let me have some of that tea, will you? and I'll see myself what it's like."
"Of course you will," said Rachel, brightening, "you shall have it directly—directly, Mr. Jones."
And without loss of time she hastened home, and almost immediately appeared again, bringing him the tea herself, and earnestly declaring that she was sure he had only to taste it, to set all right, to which Jones answered not a word, but rather gloomily thanked her for the trouble she had taken. When he was once more alone, he smelt the tea, shook his head and frowned; then he put it away until evening came round, when he gave it to Mary, and without further explanation, simply told her that was the tea they were going to have this evening. Unconscious Mary made the tea.
"La! Father," she exclaimed, as she poured the boiling water upon it, "what beautiful tea you've got; it's quite fragrant."
"Is it?" he echoed, faintly,
"Why, of course it is," she said, pettishly, "I am sure that fellow opposite ain't got nothink like it."
Richard Jones leaned his brow on his hand, and checked a groan. But when the tea was drawn, when it was poured out, when he raised the cup to his lips and tasted it, the man's courage forsook him; he put down the cup, and cried like a child.
"Father! father!" exclaimed Mary, frightened and bewildered.