“I’ve ’ad ’im in me arms many a time when ’e was a baby,” said Mrs. Cooper, with a defiant glare at Bertram. “An’ I’ve bath’d ’im.”
Mrs. Railing stirred the tea, put milk in each cup, and poured out.
“I ’ope you won’t mind if it’s not very grand,” said she to Winnie, apologetically.
“Not the Queen of England could make a better cup of tea than you, Mrs. Railing,” replied Mrs. Cooper, sitting down with a certain aggressiveness.
“Well, I ’ave got a silver tea-pot,” said Mrs. Railing, smiling proudly. “Bertie and Louie gave it me only last week for me birthday.”
Mrs. Cooper sniffed and pursed her lips.
“I don’t know why you call it silver, when it’s not ’all-marked, Mrs. Railing,” she said.
“And I know it’s not that because I’ve looked.”
“It’s electro-plate, but we call it silver by courtesy,” laughed Bertram.
“I’m a woman as calls a spade a spade,” answered Mrs. Cooper, with sombre dignity.