Opening the door of a small closet in his room he looked on an upper shelf, where he found nothing but a few crumbs on empty dishes, and a huge black teapot standing with its protruding nose toward him.
Clutching the teapot with both hands he proceeded toward the restaurant piously murmuring: “Pray, kind and beneficent spirits of light, vouchsafe unto Mary a quiet and peaceable condition, that she may in all honor and excellency of entertainment receive a poor wayfarer.”
Mary was in an excellent temper, MacDaly was happy to observe through the kitchen window of the eating house. Knocking delicately at the door, he advanced with a mincing step into the room; then bowing low, cap in hand, and placing his mammoth teapot on the back of the stove, he modestly took a seat in the corner.
Mary was dandling a baby on her knee and took no notice of him, and though remarks were fairly bursting from his lips he thought it more prudent to restrain them. Presently the owner of the baby, who was also the superintendent of the eating house, came bustling into the room.
“You here, MacDaly?” she said brusquely; “how is that?”
“Good-evening to your ladyship,” he said, getting up and bowing profoundly. “As I sat in my lonely domicile or dwelling and observed the cheerful light streaming from this mansion and abode of pleasure, I said to myself, ‘Perchance they will find it in the goodness of their amiable hearts to allow me to take my humble refreshment under the shelter of their kindly roof, and in the solacement of their excellent presence, and——’”[and——’”]
“That will do, MacDaly,” interrupted the superintendent; “where is your tea?” and lifting the cover she gazed into the black, yawning depths of his teapot.
“Truth to tell, I did not bring any, lady,” he said subserviently. “I thought for a single occasion I could do without the liquid refreshment in my enjoyment and appreciation of the solids.”
“And where are the solids?” she asked, looking sharply about her. “Now MacDaly, you know the arrangement is that you cater for yourself. We are not rich people at the Pavilion, and if we give you a room, and a fire, and bedclothing, it is all you should require of us. There are poor creatures worse off than you that we are bound to help. For this once I’ll put some tea in your teapot. Now produce your bread and butter.”
“Madam, beloved lady, neither has your humble servant any of the staff of life nor of its trimmings.”