Brian winced at this, and looked apprehensively at Madge, and saw with
relief that she was not paying attention to her father, but was
listening intently.

"There she is," as a faint rustle at the door announced the arrival of
Mrs. Sampson and the tea-tray. "I wonder, Brian, you don't think the
house is on fire with that queer noise always going on--she wants
oil!"

"Yes, St. Jacob's oil," laughed Brian, as Mrs. Sampson entered, and
placed her burden on the table.

"Not 'avin' any cake," said that lady, "thro' not being forewarned as
to the time of arrival--tho' it's not ofting I'm taken by surprise--except
as to a 'eadache, which, of course, is accidental to every
pusson--I ain't got nothin' but bread and butter, the baker and grocer
both bein' all that could be desired, except in the way of worryin' for
their money, which they thinks as 'ow I keeps the bank in the 'ouse,
like Allading's cave, as I've 'eard tell in the Arabian Nights, me
'avin' gained it as a prize for English in my early girl'ood, bein'
then considered a scholard an' industrus."

Mrs. Sampson's shrill apologies for the absence of cake having been
received, she hopped out of the room, and Madge made the tea. The
service was a quaint Chinese one, which Brian had picked up in his
wanderings. He used it only on special occasions. As he watched Madge
he could not help thinking how pretty she looked, with her hands moving
deftly among the cups and saucers, so bizarre-looking with their
sprawling dragons of yellow and green. He half smiled to himself as he
thought, "If they knew all, I wonder if they would sit with me so