The clouds were frightfully low now, the wind whipping at the tablecloth and upsetting the tea setting. A bright flash of lightning arced down, followed moments later by thunder, as a violent storm made itself known. Or worse; looking up, Codswallop noted the ominous low-hanging clouds and rotation that portended a cyclone.

“Does madam think that, perhaps, it might be time to move the tea indoors?” he cried, doing his best to shield Rags from the wind and the first light sprinklings of hail.

“Oh, far from it!” Lady Vanessa cried. “I told you that my dear Jonathan had ascended from his earthly body to become a thunder spirit, and now he has finally accepted my invitation to tea! I mustn’t disappoint him.”

Codswallop looked up, looked back at Lady Vanessa seated calmly as the green fell apart around her, and nodded curtly. “If you’ll excuse us a moment, my lady,” he said. “My compatriot and I are off in search of a dry crumpet.” He took Rags by the hand and led them both, forcefully, back to the manor house.

“Don’t be long!” Vanessa cried behind them. “Oh, Jonathan, it’s been so long! I have so much to tell you now that we’re reunited!”

Rags did not protest or struggle, but instead looked back at the unfolding scene. As Codswallop led them back to the manor and calmly smashed out one of its cellar windows, the low clouds dart earthward in the form of a twister, kicking up dust and debris as it traveled.

“Come, Rags,” said Codswallop. “We should get away from the windows, lest they become fancy shrapnel.”

Rags, though, snuck one last look, and saw the twister hungrily devouring the long table and tea settings, with the Lady Vanessa lifted bodily up, a smile on her face and petticoats flapping, until she vanished in the funnel.

“Come now,” Codswallop said again, leading Rags deeper into the shelter of the cellar. “Lady Vanessa has gotten what she wanted, but I don’t think you or I would care for the same gift.”

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