could devise of assuring him of my sympathy.

He looked up at me, in silence.

His book of leaves was on the table; he did once more, what he had
already done at the spring. Instead of using the book as usual, he wrote
in it himself, and then handed it to me.

"Let me spare your nerves a repetition of my deaf discord. Sight, smell,
touch, taste--I would give them all to be able to hear. In reminding me
of that vain aspiration, my infirmity revenges itself: my deafness is not
accustomed to be forgotten. Well! I can be silently useful; I can make
the tea."

He rose, and, taking the teapot with him, went to the table that had been
placed against the wall. In that position, his back was turned towards
us.

At the same time, I felt his book gently taken out of my hand. Cristel
had been reading, while I read, over my shoulder. She wrote on the next
blank leaf: "Shall I make the tea?"

"Now," she said to me, "notice what happens."

Following him, she touched his arm, and presented her request. He shook
his head in token of refusal. She came back to her place by me.

"You expected that?" I said.

"Yes."

"Why did you ask me to notice his refusal?"

"Because I may want to remind you that he wouldn't let me make the tea."

"Mysteries, my dear?"

"Yes: mysteries."

"Not to be mentioned more particularly?"

"I will mention one of them more particularly. After the tea has been
made, you may possibly feel me touch your knee under the table."

I was fool enough to smile at this, and wise enough afterwards to see in
her face that I had made a mistake.

"What is your touch intended to mean?" I asked.

"It means, 'Wait,' she said."

My sense of humor was, by this time, completely held in check. That some
surprise was in store for me, and that Cristel was resolved not to take
me into her confidence, were conclusions at which I naturally arrived. I
felt, and surely not without good cause, a little annoyed. The Lodger
came back to us with the tea made. As he put the teapot on the table, he
apologized to Cristel.

"Don't think me rude, in refusing your kind offer. If there is one thing
I know I can do better than anybody else, that thing is making tea. Do
you take sugar and milk, Mr. Roylake?"

I made the affirmative sign. He poured out the tea. When he had filled
two cups, the supply was exhausted. Cristel and I noticed this. He saw
it, and at once gratified our curiosity.

"It is a rule," he said, "with master