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.