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“No, I'm guess it's good that you don't melt...A drink,” Dick repeated. “By all means. Yes, I’ll keep it off you. Yes, in the cup would be marvelous. A drink...a drink at once,” and still muttering, he pattered off once more behind the counter. He drew for the elf the finest brew they had, and then, placing it momentarily on the counter, darted back into the kitchen.
“Cela, dear,” he said, panting and out of breath, “do you mind serving something nice? Pie! Is it fresh? Will you put a large slice on a plate? And start some tea. Be quick, now!” And he went out again as quick as a humming bird. He picked up the mug and started on his way back across the room. He slowed to a careful walk as he approached the elf and the man and set it gently on the table before her.
“There you are, ma’am,” he said. “Again, I’m very sorry. Is there anything else I can offer? I’m having the cook get you some tea and a slice of her fresh pie. I hope that will amend matters some. Oh, sir!” he cried out suddenly. “I forgot to get you another mug full. I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back.” And so saying, he was off once more.
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