Leicester Square," cried the Herr Rat. "It was a good hotel, but they
could not make tea--now--"

"Ah, that's one thing I CAN do," said I, laughing brightly. "I can make
very good tea. The great secret is to warm the teapot."

"Warm the teapot," interrupted the Herr Rat, pushing away his soup plate.
"What do you warm the teapot for? Ha! ha! that's very good! One does not
eat the teapot, I suppose?"

He fixed his cold blue eyes upon me with an expression which suggested a
thousand premeditated invasions.

"So that is the great secret of your English tea? All you do is to warm
the teapot."

I wanted to say that was only the preliminary canter, but could not
translate it, and so was silent.

The servant brought in veal, with sauerkraut and potatoes.

"I eat sauerkraut with great pleasure," said the Traveller from North
Germany, "but now I have eaten so much of it that I cannot retain it. I am
immediately forced to--"

"A beautiful day," I cried, turning to Fraulein Stiegelauer. "Did you get
up early?"

"At five o'clock I walked for ten minutes in the wet grass. Again in bed.
At half-past five I fell asleep, and woke at seven, when I made an