ticular and exclusive
house in London. She saw that it was served strong and hot; she was
particular to have it made with what she called the "first boil"
of the water. Water that had boiled for five minutes made, in Mrs.
Meadowsweet's opinion, contemptible tea. Then she liked it well
sweetened, and flavored with very rich cream. Such a cup of tea, as she
expressed it, set her up for the day. The felt carpet had given Mrs.
Meadowsweet a kind of shock, but all her natural spirits revived when
she saw the tea equipage. She approved of the exquisite eggshell china,
and noted with satisfaction that the teapot was really silver.

"What a refreshment a cup of tea is!" exclaimed the good woman. "Nothing
like it, as I dare say you know, Mrs. Bertram."

Mrs. Bertram smiled languidly, and raising the teapot, prepared to pour
out a cup for her guest. She was startled by a noise, which sounded
something like a shout, coming from the fat lady's lips.

"Did you speak?" she asked.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bertram, but don't--it's cruel."

"Don't do what?"

"The tea isn't drawn. Let it rest a bit--why, it's the color of straw."

"This peculiar tea is always of a light color," replied Mrs. Bertram,
her sallow face growing darkly red. "I hope you will appreciate it; but
perhaps it is a matter of training. It is, however, I assure you, quite
the vogue among my friends in London."

Mrs. Meadowsweet felt crushed. She received the cup of flavorless,
half-cold liquid presented to her in a subdued spirit, sipped it with
the air of a martyr, and devoutly wished herself back again in the Gray
House.

Mrs. Bertram knew perfectly well that her guest thought the tea
detestable and the cake stale. It was as necessary for people of Mrs.
Meadowsweet's class to go in for strong tea and high living as it was
for people of Mrs. Bertram's class to aspire to faded felt in the matter
of carpets, and water bewitched in the shape of tea. Each after her
kind, Mrs. Bertram murmured. But as she had an object in view it was
necessary for her to earn the good-will of the well-to-do widow.

Accordingly, when the slender meal came to an end, and the two ladies
found themselves under the shelter of the friendly oak-tree, matters
went more smoothly. Mrs. Bertram put her guest into an excellent humor
by bestowing some cordial praise upon Beatrice.

"She is not like you," continued the good lady, with some naivete.

"No, no," responded the gratified m