“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” shouted Sedgewyck.

“Oh, the tea is a little hot, so I’m adding some ice cubes to it,” said Rags. “So it doesn’t burn my mouth.”

Sedgewyck rose, furious. “WATERING DOWN the tea? COOLING the tea? This is an insult MOST GRAVE, child!”

“I wouldn’t mind a spot of milk or a bisuit to dunk myself,” said Codswallop.

“You INSULT me, sir!” screamed Sedgewyck. “This is the ancient ELDER TEA, passed down from our forebears who were first wrecked here, and you are DISRESPECTING IT!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Rags said. “I’ll take the ice cubes out.” He reached for a teaspoon, only to have Sedgewyck swat it out of his hand with his cane.

“It’s too late! An insult this grave can only be answered with blood!”

Codswallop had reached across the table for milk, which he had quietly added to his tea. “Are you sure about that, Sir Sedgewyck?” he said mildly. “I have found you and your people affably amusing thus far; it would be a shame to shed your blood over something as trivial as the temperature and composition of tea.”

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