An impressive face. A remarkably quiet afternoon.
The Arrival
The tiger had put a cushion on every chair except his own. His chair had required a different approach: he had moved it to the open end of the table, where there was room for his shoulders and somewhere for his tail to go.
He stood back to inspect the room. Two cups, two plates, a small bowl of sugar. On the sideboard, a pot of tea waited beneath a knitted cover.
The badger arrived with a paper bag of biscuits. Behind her came the tortoise, carrying a little bunch of mint from his garden.
“Your Majesty,” said the badger, handing over the bag.
“You needn’t call me that.”
“You opened the door as though you were expecting a portrait painter.”
He took her coat and hung it carefully beside the tortoise’s scarf.
“Tea?”
“Lovely,” they said.
A Little Less Room
The tiger brought the pot from the sideboard. To reach the badger’s cup, he turned sideways between her chair and the wall. She drew her elbows in and moved her chair toward the table.
“Am I in your way?” she asked.
“Not at all.”
He poured, then went around to the tortoise. There was less room on that side. The tortoise lifted his cup so the tiger would not have to reach over him, and one broad hip brushed the corner of the table. A spoon rang against a saucer.
“Sorry,” said the tiger.
“Quite all right.”
The tiger returned the pot to the sideboard and fetched a small dish for the mint. When he turned back, both guests were already moving their chairs.
He stopped with the dish between his paws.
The badger still had her elbows pressed to her sides. The tortoise was holding his cup in the air, waiting for him to pass.
“Please,” said the tiger. “Put that down before your tea gets cold.”
The tortoise lowered it to the saucer. The tiger stayed where he was.
His Place at the Table
“I’ve arranged everything rather well for someone half my size,” he said.
The badger glanced at the narrow space behind her chair.
“The cushions are excellent.”
“I’m glad one department is working.”
He set the mint dish on the table, then brought the teapot and its stand to his own place at the open end. The biscuits went in the middle, within reach of both guests. He fetched a larger cup and a plate for himself, poured his tea, and tucked the knitted cover back over the pot. Then he sat down, curling his tail beside the chair.
For a moment, he looked around for anything he had forgotten.
The badger eased her chair back. Beside her, the tortoise settled against his cushion and stretched his feet out beneath the table.
“Would you pass the mint?” the tiger asked.
The tortoise slid the dish toward him.
“Just bruise a leaf first. You’ll smell it.”
The tiger pressed one gently against his saucer. A fresh scent rose through the steam.
“Oh,” he said, and brought his cup closer.
Tea Can Wait
The badger broke a biscuit over her plate and asked the tortoise about his garden. He had been trying to grow strawberries. Something had been eating them just before they ripened.
“Birds?” she asked.
“Possibly.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“My neighbour has been very complimentary about them.”
The tiger laughed into his cup. The tortoise leaned forward to explain exactly where the neighbour’s fence ended and his strawberry bed began.
When the badger finished her tea, the tiger’s hind paws shifted beneath his chair. He glanced toward her empty cup.
“Another?”
“In a little while,” she said, settling back. “I want to hear what he did about the fence.”
The tiger rested his paws beside his plate.
Across the table, the tortoise was drawing a small, very disputed boundary in the biscuit crumbs.
The teapot stayed under its knitted cover. The tiger stayed for the story.
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