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 among the ashes. "I must say, Henry, whoever your friends may be, they cannot be very nice about their cookery."

"Consecrated by the cook, don't you see, Miss Impertinence. That bacon is toasted by mine own fair hands."

"Really, my boy," said his mother, "you have grown most Bohemian in your ways."

She took off a pair of shabby and much-mended gloves with that air of resolution she imparted to her lightest action, and insisted on being allowed to make the tea. She measured two spoonfuls of tea from the caddy with great care.

"I allow myself three spoonfuls now I live in London," said her son.

"Three is extravagance, Henry, three is not necessary," said his mother quietly. "One for each person and one for the pot is correct."

"Suppose a friend turns up?"

"More can be made. I fear you have formed very bad habits in London."

"We have a surprise for you, Henry," said the girl gaily.

She left the room to fetch a basket she had left at the top of the stairs.

"Guess what we have brought for you," she cried as she produced it.

"Butter and eggs."

"How awfully clever that you should have guessed them at once," she said, with her eagerness sinking into disappointment.

"I am afraid I never had any tact worth mentioning," said Northcote. "It was very stupid of me to have guessed butter and eggs."