"There, boy, there! What an infant you are! Sit down and have it for goodness' sake! It'll be dinner-time before you've done." "You've had yours ?" said Piers.
"Oh, yes--yes!" Irritation made itself heard again in Sir Beverley's voice; he freed himself from his grandson's hold, though not urgently.
"I'm not so keen on your precious tea," he said, seating himself again.
"It's only young milksops like you that have made it fashionable.

When I was young--" "Hullo!" broke in Piers.

He had picked up the cup of tea and was sniffing it suspiciously.

"You've been doctoring this!" he said.
"You drink it!" ordered Sir Beverley peremptorily.

"I'm not going to have you laid up with rheumatic fever if I know it.