He always found some little
surprise on the table, if nothing more than a new cup to drink his tea
from, or a pretty device on the little pat of butter; there was sure to be
something to make remarks about. But this "foolishness," as Mrs. Sherwood
called it, was kept up, and the harmless sport did much to induce the sick
man to eat, and thus kept up his strength. Dexie was glad to find that her
mother had left the room when she returned with a covered tray. Setting it
on one side, she raised her father and settled his pillows, placed the
invalid's table across the couch, set the tray thereon, then whipped off
the napkin that covered the dishes.
"Now, papa, what do you think of that for a cup and saucer?"
"Is that a cup and saucer, Dexie? Well, you might call it anything else and
not be far astray, I fancy. I'll have to ask, like the little nigger in
'Dred,' 'Which be de handle, and which am de spout?'" and he looked at the
cup with interest.
"Why, that is the beauty of it. You can't make a mistake! If you take it
this way, why, _this_ is the handle and _that_ the spout. If you prefer it
end for end, why--there, you have it! I saw it down in the store, and
thought it would be just the thing to drink out of.
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