neither said anything about it to the other.

After breakfast Grandpapa went off to his study, and Grandmamma rang the
bell for Dymock, who carried away the big tea-urn, the silver hot-water
dish in which was served Grandpapa's rasher of bacon, the knives and
forks,--everything, in short, on the table except the cups and saucers
and the rest of the china belonging to the breakfast-service. This china
was very curious, and, to those who understood such things, very
beautiful. Grandpapa had got it in his travels at some out-of-the-way
place, and the story went that it had been made for some great Chinese
lady--some "mandarin-ess," Grandmamma used to say in laughing, who had
never allowed it to be copied. How it had been got from _her_ I cannot
say. It was very fine in quality, and it was painted all over with green
dragons, with gilt tongues and eyes, and the edges of the cups and
saucers were also gilt. There were large as well as small cups; the
large ones, of course, were for breakfast, and the small ones for tea,
but Grandmamma always kept out two of the latter for Duke and Pamela. In
those days one never saw large cups of oriental china, and this was what
made the service particularly uncommon, and Grandpapa had never been
able to find out if the large ones were really Chinese or only
imitation, copied from the smaller ones. If really Chinese, then the
lady-mandarin was most likely an Englishwoman after all, who had had
them specially made for her.

You will be surprised to hear that during the thirty or forty years
during which Grandpapa and Grandmamma had daily used this precious china
not a single piece had been broken, scarcely even chipped, though, by
force of simple usage, the green dragons had grown less brilliant, and
here and there the golden tongues and eyes had altogether disappeared,
while the whole had grown soft and mellowed, so that a moment's glance