“Not poison,” he said, “but I do not like it.”
“Is yours made very differently?” I asked.
“Quite,” he replied.
“Will you show me some day?”
“With pleasure, but I must send you a Chinese cup, for I cannot make Chinese tea in your cups. In our cups the saucer is on the top, not at the bottom.”
Accordingly, this was arranged, and the following day the teacup duly arrived. It was about the size of a breakfast cup, with a ring of china instead of a saucer; the cup itself fitted into the hole, and was covered with a lid, which again fitted inside the bowl instead of outside.
Five o’clock was the hour named for our tea ceremony. I was sitting in the drawing-room with my ordinary English tea arrangements, and a special spirit lamp for His Excellency. At ten minutes past five he was announced, laughing merrily.
“What do you think I have done?” he said. “I have been so stupid. It was fine, so I walked from Portland Place, and thinking I knew your house well I did not look up at the number. I arrived and was shown upstairs by the parlourmaid, who seemed quite pleased to see me. At the door I gave my name as the ‘Chinese Minister,’ and was duly ushered into a drawing-room, which I at once saw was not like your room. A lady who was sitting there rose and said, ‘How do you do?’ I bowed and repeated the remark, at once feeling I had made a mistake.
“‘Do you speak English?’ she asked.
“‘Yes, madam,’ I replied, with my best bow, now quite certain of my mistake.