“I say!” said Rupert again—this time very meaningly.
“Would you rather I....” said Archie, and he moved in his chair to get up.
“No, no! Certainly not! On no account!” answered Rupert, and he actually raised his hand. “But perhaps”—and here he smiled at Archie and gazed about him—“perhaps we might find some spot for it that was a trifle less conspicuous.”
The spot was not decided on, however, and Archie nipped his sole personal possession into his bedroom as soon as Rupert was out of the way.
But it was chiefly at meals that the attitude of host and guest was most marked. For instance, on each separate occasion, even before they sat down Rupert said, “Would you mind cutting the bread, Archie?” Had he not made such a point of it, it is possible that Archie in a moment of abstractedness might have grasped the bread knife.... An unpleasant thought! Again, Archie was never allowed to serve. Even at breakfast, the hot dishes and the tea, both were dispensed by Rupert. True, he half apologized about the tea; he seemed to feel the necessity of some slight explanation, there.
“I’m rather a fad about my tea,” said he. “Some people, females especially, pour in the milk first. Fatal habit, for more reasons than one. In my opinion, the cup should be filled just so and the tea then coloured. Sugar, Archie?”
“Oh, please,” said Archie, almost bowing over the table. Rupert was so very impressive.
“But I suppose,” said his friend, “you don’t notice any of these little things.”
And Archie answered vaguely, stirring, “No, I don’t suppose I do.”