irresponsive but unresisting Lump, went into the kitchen and set about
getting ready the Honourable John Ruffin's tea.

She had lighted the gas under the kettle and taken the bread and butter
from the cupboard, when he came into the kitchen, wearing an air of the
most earnest purpose, and said impressively:

"Genius, Pollyooly--genius is the art of taking infinite pains."

"Yes, sir," said Pollyooly politely.

"That is why you are unsurpassed in the art of grilling bacon; you take
infinite pains with it," he went on with the same earnestness.

"Yes, sir," said Pollyooly with more understanding.

"And now I am going to instruct you in the art of making tea," he said
proudly. "I only learned yesterday that it was an art. Till then I
believed that you merely poured boiling water on tea, and there you
were. I have learned that it is not so. Also I have learned that that
vegetable which comes from India and Ceylon, and is called tea by those
who sell it, is not really tea at all. Tea only comes from China; and
I have bought some."

"Yes, sir," said Pollyooly with the air of one receiving information
gratefully.

"And now I will teach you the art of making it exactly as it was taught
to me," he said with a very schoolmasterly air.

Thereupon, under his instructions, Pollyooly warmed the tea-pot and
stood by the tea-caddy ready to put in two teaspoonfuls of tea (one for
him, one for the pot) the moment the kettle boiled. The moment it did
boil, following his instructions, she put the tea into the pot, and
then, tilting the kettle without taking it from the stove, she poured
the still boiling water on to it. Then she inverted the little glass
egg-boiler and stood ready to bring the infusing tea into his
sitting-room as soon as the upper half of it was nearly empty of sand.

Then he said in raised and sonorous tones of profound satisfaction:

"That is the art of making tea. Now that you have once learnt it, I
know,--I am sure that very soon you will be not only the finest griller
of bacon in England, but also the finest maker of tea."

"I'll try, sir," said Pollyooly cheerfully. "It doesn't seem very
difficult."

"To genius nothing is _very_ difficult," said the Honourable John
Ruffin impressively. "The difficulty is to stick to it--to go on
getting the thing right every time. But you can do it with bacon: why
not with tea?"

When the sand had nearly all run out of the upper part of the glass,
she to