"Just splendidly, Doctor," replied Mattie, gaily. "Your picnic is turning out to be a grander success than you ever could have dreamed of."
"I don't know," he returned as his eye swept about the room and out of the window. "I had my ideas up pretty high, but I must admit that this rather exceeds my highest flights of imagination."
"My ideal of pleasure, so far as eating goes, used to be that of sitting in a Pullman dining-car, flying at the rate of forty miles an hour or more. I have spent an hour at such a table more than once, looking out of the great windows as I ate, and thought I knew all about it. But ah! I had never dined with the 'Children of the Skies,'" said Will.
And so they pleasantly chatted through the meal. Mrs. Jones, who sat at the other end of the table, poured the tea.
"It may be imagination, but everything seems to taste better than common aboard this ship," said Professor Gray. "Now, this tea is remarkably fragrant and delicious. It is a beverage that I do not as a rule care much for. What particular variety of tea is it?"
"It is the very best quality of Ceylon. I have forbidden the use of any other kind by my patients. The Ceylon tea possesses little or no tannic acid, and is not nearly so deleterious to weak stomachs as other varieties. Speaking of teas, I suppose that you have all heard of one brand of tea called 'Gunpowder.' I could tell you a very good story about Gunpowder tea if you wish to hear it."
A general desire being expressed to hear it, the Doctor began:
"My maternal grandfather left New York state and moved to the vicinity of Cleveland, Ohio, in 1830. Cleveland at that time was a small, unimportant lakeport and my grandfather was offered his choice between a tract of land upon what is now the most beautiful residence street in the world, Euclid Avenue, and a piece at what was called Brighton, several miles farther from town. It speaks but little for the old gentleman's foresight, but he chose the latter, and so remained a comparatively poor man all his life, instead of becoming a millionaire. But, by dint of hard work, grandfather prospered as well as his neighbors, and was content. In course of time, a hired man became a necessary fixture upon the farm, and for many years Pete Wiggs, an honest, hardworking German, was grandfather's right-hand man. But Pete, jewel of a farmhand though he was, possessed one serious flaw: he _would_ have a periodical spree. But, so considerate was he, that he always chose a time for his sprees when 'Dere really vos notting else to do, Uncle Ezra,' as he assured my grandfather by way of extenuation. So it became an understood arrangement that Pete was to be allowed, and expected to have, a 'blowout' every spring and fall. One spring day, the crops being all in, Pete began making arrangements for one of his semi-annuals. 'Now, Pete,' said my grandmother, 'before you get drunk, I want you to be sure and not forget to buy me a pound of the new tea I have heard of. They call it 'Gunpowder tea.' Now attend to this for me before you get to drinking.