“My dearest love, I’m afraid you’ve caught cold,” said Godfrey, with apprehension.
“Do I ever catch cold, Godfrey?” Nita cried, scornfully; and indeed her splendid physique seemed to negative the idea as she stood before him, tall and buoyant, with the carnation of health upon cheek and lips, her eyes sparkling, her head erect.
“Well, no, my Juno, I believe you are as free from all such weakness as human nature can be; but I shall order fires all the same, and I implore you to put on a warm gown.”
“I will,” she answered, gaily. “You shall see me in my copper plush.”
“Thanks, love. That is a vision to live for.”
“Shall we have tea in my dressing-room—or in yours?”
“In mine. I think we have taken tea in almost every other room in the house, as well as in every corner of the garden.”
It had been one of her girlish caprices to devise new places for their afternoon tea. Whether it had been as keen a delight to the footmen to carry Japanese tables and bamboo chairs from pillar to post was open to question; but Juanita loved to colonize, as she called it.
“I feel that wherever we establish our teapot we invest the spot with the sanctity of home,” she said.
Fires were ordered, and tea in Sir Godfrey’s dressing-room.