a female person would not concoct anything so trite as a
Yorkshire pudding or scrambled eggs.

Not till the omelette was an affair of the past (so far as _his_ plate
was concerned) did he begin to attend to his tea--his tea which
sustained a mystery as curious as, and decidedly more sinister than, the
mystery of the omelette.

He stared into the cup; then, to use the Five Towns phrase, he supped it
up.

There could be no doubt; it was his special China tea. It had a peculiar
flavour (owing, perhaps, to the precedence given to milk), but it was
incontestably his guarded and locked tea. How had she got it?

"Where didst find this tea, lass?" he asked.

"In the little corner cupboard in the scullery," she said. "I'd no idea
that people drank such good China tea in Bursley."

"Ah!" he observed, concealing his concern under a mask of irony, "China
tea was drunk i' Bursley afore your time."

"Mother would only drink Ceylon," said she.

"That doesna' surprise me," said he, as if to imply that no vagary on
the part of Susan could surprise him. And he proceeded, reflectively:
"In th' corner cupboard, sayst tha?"

"Yes, in a large tin box."

A large tin box. This news was overwhelming. He rose abruptly and went
into the scullery. Indubitably there was a large tin box, pretty nearly
half full of his guarded tea, in the corner cupboard.

He returned, the illusion of half a lifetime shattered. "That there
woman was a thief!" he announced.

"What woman?"

"Mrs. Butt."

And he explained to Helen all his elaborate precautions for the
preservation of his China tea. Helen was wholly sympathetic. The utter
correctness of her attitude towards Mrs. Butt was balm to him. Only one
theory was conceivable. The wretched woman must have had a key to his
caddy. During his absence from the house she must have calmly helped
herself to tea at five shillings a pound--a spoonful or so at a time.
Doubtless she made tea for her private consumption exactly when she
chose. It was even possible that she walked off from time to time with
quantities of tea to her own home. And he who thought himself so clever,
so much cleverer than a servant!

"You can't have her back, as she isn't honest, even if she comes back,"
said Helen.

"Oh, her won't come back," said James. "Fact is, I've had difficulties
with her for a long time now."

"Then what shall you do, my poor dear uncle?"

"Nay," said he, "I mun ask you that. It was you as was th' ca