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Bingo returned to the table with tea for all who had requested it, and he placed one of these cups in Iadarion's hand, smiling kindly. "Here, sir," he said. "Please do drink this tea. It will make you feel a bit better, I think." And then he sat down next to Iadarion with his own cup of tea and appeared as though to begin conversation when he was interrupted.
The interruption was by Posco. He had been sitting quietly and shyly in his chair, looking at the newcomers with no little curiosity, and this curiosity had grown and grown until it overcame his shyness and, staring at Twylight, he blurted out, "What are you? I do mean, you are one of the Big Folk, that much is obvious, but are you a Man or are you... are you an Elf?" He was blushing furiously but now his eyes were wide with a sort of panic to finish what he was saying whether it cost him his life or no. He turned to Iadarion. "And what race are you?" He turned to Lily. "And what race are you?" He turned to Marcho. "And what race are you?" He stopped, stared in panicked confusion, and then sunk deep into his chair, staring miserably into his tea.
Marcho stood abruptly to his feet. "Interesting and very good questions," he said. "If we are all to become friends perhaps we might as well know. As you can see Bingo, Posco, and I are Hobbits. What are you? Now excuse me." He hurried to the counter where no one could see him and laughed until he felt near to choking. He would never, never in all his life, forget the expression on Posco's face when he had turned to him and cried, "What race are you?"
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