The troubled expression that I had seen before came back suddenly into her face.
"I mustn't stay very long—not more than half an hour at the most."
"Half an hour!" I repeated in dismay. "You can't possibly have tea in half an hour! Why, it's frightfully dangerous to try and drink hot things in a hurry."
Before I could make any further protests I was interrupted by the creak of footsteps laboriously ascending the stairs. There was a chink and rattle of cups and then, panting slightly from her exertions, the lady of the shop emerged into view, heavily burdened with an immense tray.
She set this down on the table, and surveyed us with a motherly smile.
"If there's anything else you fancy, p'raps you'll give me a call over the banisters," she said. "My sister's gone to a funeral to-day, and I'm all alone in the shop."
I gazed at the staggering collection of pastries which we were apparently expected to consume, and hazarded an opinion that they would probably see us through.
"Well, don't be frightened of 'em, my dear," she said, addressing Christine. "They're all home made. You can eat as many as you like without takin' no harm."
She left the room again, closing the door behind her, and, having inspected the various chairs at our disposal, I brought forward the one which looked the least uncomfortable.
"You pour out tea," I said, placing it in position. "I'm so tired of doing it for myself."