"Let me make it," said Matilde, cheerfully; "I like to do it."
She laid down her work, and Elettra set the table before her knees, with
its high silver urn, and all the necessary little implements. Veronica
found herself on the other side of it, for Matilde had carefully chosen
her seat when she had first come, placing herself in such a way with
regard to Veronica as to make the present result almost inevitable
unless the girl moved into a very inconvenient position.
The big grey Maltese cat came in through the still open door, in the
hope of cream at the tea hour, as usual. The creature rubbed itself
along Elettra's skirt while she was lighting the spirit lamp under the
urn, which contained water already almost boiling.
"Will you kindly call the count?" said Matilde, addressing the maid.
Elettra left the room, and Matilde settled herself to make the tea, as
women do, raising her elbow a little on each side and then dropping them
again, bending her face down to see whether the lamp were burning well,
opening the teapot, pouring a little hot water into it, opening and
shutting the tea-caddy, and settling each spoon in each saucer in a
dainty and utterly futile way.
The cat rubbed its grey sides against Veronica's skirt and against her
little slipper, as she sat there, one knee crossed over the other. The
young girl bent down and stroked it, and hesitated, looking at the
tea-table, and not wishing to disturb the things to take a saucer for
the cat until the tea was made.
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