"I am sure, dear, I have seen uglier things under a glass shade
before now," said she.
So had I, many a time and oft, and I accordingly composed my
countenance (and now I could hardly keep from crying), and we both
fell to upon the pudding, which was indeed excellent--only every
morsel seemed to choke us, our hearts were so full.
We had too much to think about to talk much that afternoon. It
passed over very tranquilly. But when the tea-urn was brought in a
new thought came into my head. Why should not Miss Matty sell tea-
-be an agent to the East India Tea Company which then existed? I
could see no objections to this plan, while the advantages were
many--always supposing that Miss Matty could get over the
degradation of condescending to anything like trade. Tea was
neither greasy nor sticky--grease and stickiness being two of the
qualities which Miss Matty could not endure. No shop-window would
be required. A small, genteel notification of her being licensed
to sell tea would, it is true, be necessary, but I hoped that it
could be placed where no one would see it. Neither was tea a heavy
article, so as to tax Miss Matty's fragile strength. The only
thing against my plan was the buying and selling involved.
While I was giving but absent answers to the questions Miss Matty
was putting--almost as absently--we heard a clumping sound on the
stairs, and a whispering outside the door, which indeed once opened
and shut as if by some invisible agency.
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