Some tea, dear? Those cookies are quite nice, please try one. Now you just sit there for a while while I get my knitting and we'll have a nice talk. Oh yes, how is your father -- still drinking, I hear. Your poor, poor mother! Wait, I know that it's around here someplace. Just a minute now, oh, pshaw! That cat unraveled my whole skein! Just put your hands out, that's good, and I'll wind this yarn up again, there. You're not drinking your tea, is there something wrong with it? Oh, silly me, you've got yarn around both hands, of course! Anyway, your poor, poor mother, she's a saint, an absolute SAINT, putting up with your father the way she has, and he drinking and caring on as he does, it's a scandal to the jaybirds. The whole neighborhood has been taking about it for ever so long, I'm certainly glad that his mother (that's your grandmother Agnes, dear) never lived to see what he's become. And he has had every advantage, too, a decent education even, and he still can't spell correctly. There, that's all rewound! Now drink your tea, dear and DO have more cookies, and yes, I know that they're called biscuits in England but then again, we dumped that word for cookies into the harbor with all that tea, you know.

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