"It is very hot and
close down here."
"Then you _were_ faint?"
"Here's your chest, marm," called the voice of Uriah T. Potter.
She turned and walked towards it. It was a large, square
packing-case, and bore the legends--
"WAPSHOTT AND SONS',
CHICAGO,
PATENT COMPRESSED TEA,
TEN PRIZE MEDALS"--
stamped here and there about it. "I suppose," she said, turning to
Mr. Moggridge, "I can have it weighed here, and pay you the duty, and
then Captain Potter can send it straight to 'The Bower'?"
"Certainly," said Mr. Moggridge; "we won't be long opening it, and
then--"
"Opening it!"
"Why, yes; as a matter of form, you know. It won't take a minute."
"But how foolish," said Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, "when you know very well
by the invoice that it's tea!"
"Oh, of course it's foolish: only it's the rule, you understand,
before allowing goods to be landed."
"But I don't understand. It is tea, and I am ready to pay the duty.
I never thought you would be so unreasonable."
"Geraldine!"
At the utterance of Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys' Christian name the two
minions turned aside to conceal their smiles. The red-faced man's
appreciation even led him to dive behind the packing-case.
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