“Water bewitched, and tea begrudged,” she said, trying to speak jocularly.
“Well, the fourth cup never is very good, is it,” said Mrs. Church, apologetically. “I’ll put some more tea in, so that your next cup’ll be better.”
As a matter of fact it was Mrs. Banks’ third cup, and she said so, Mrs. Church receiving the correction with a polite smile, more than tinged with incredulity.
“It’s wonderful what a lot of tea is drunk,” said Captain Barber, impressively, looking round the table.
“I’ve heard say it’s like spirit drinking,” said Mrs. Church; “they say it gets such a hold of people that they can’t give it up. They’re just slaves to it, and they like it brown and strong like brandy.”
Mrs. Banks, who had been making noble efforts, could contain herself no longer. She put down the harmless beverage which had just been handed to her, and pushed her chair back from the table.
“Are you speaking of me, young woman?” she asked, tremulous with indignation.
“Oh, no, certainly not,” said Mrs. Church, in great distress. “I never thought of such a thing. I was alluding to the people Captain Barber was talking of—regular tea-drinkers, you know.”
“I know what you mean, ma’am,” said Mrs. Banks fiercely.
“There, there,” said Captain Barber, ill-advisedly.