“Madam,” said he, “your offer is made in the true spirit of hospitality. Hospitality, let me tell you, consists not, as many suppose, in the sharing of one's last crust with a friend--for the sacrifice in parting with a modicum of so unappetising a comestible as a crust is not great--nay; hospitality, to become a virtue, involves a real sacrifice.” “So in heaven's name let us have the tea,” said Garrick. “Make it not too strong,” he whispered to Peggy as he opened the door for her. “I have seen him drain his tenth cup at a sitting.” The actress made a mocking gesture by way of reply. She did not share Garrick's parsimonious longings, and in the matter of tea brewing, she was especially liberal. When she returned to the room bearing aloft a large teapot, and had begun to pour out the contents, Garrick complained bitterly of the strength of the tea, as his guest years afterwards told Boswell. “'T is as red as blood,” growled the actor. “And how else should it be, sir?” cried Mrs. Woffington. “Is 't not the nature of good tea to be red?” As Garrick continued growling, Peggy laughed the more heartily, and, with an air of coquettish defiance which suited her admirably, poured out a second brimming cup for their visitor--he had made very light of the first--taking no care to avoid spilling some into the saucer. “Faith, sir, Mr. Garrick is right: 'tis as red as blood,” laughed Peggy, looking with mischievous eyes into Johnson's face. “That were an indefinite statement, madam; its accuracy is wholly dependent on the disposition of the person from whom the blood is drawn,” said Johnson. “Now yours, I believe, madam, to be of a rich and generous hue, but Davy's, I doubt not, is a pale and meagre fluid--somewhat resembling the wine which he endeavored to sell, with, let us hope for the sake of the health of his customers, indifferent success for some years.” Garrick laughed with some constraint, while Mrs. Woffington roared with delight. “Nay, sir; you are too hard upon me,” cried the actor. “What! would the rascal cry up his blood at the expense of his wine?” said Johnson. “That, sir, were to eulogise nature at the expense of art--an ill proceeding for an actor.” “And that brings us back to the question which we discussed on our way hither from the theatre,” said Peggy. “List, good Mr. Johnson, to the proposition of Mr. Garrick. He says that I should be held accountable for the tameness in the acting of the part of a jealous woman by Miss Hoppner, who is to appear in the tragedy on Tuesday week.” “I do not doubt, madam, that you should be held accountable for the jealousy of many good women in the town,” said Johnson; “but it passes my knowledge by what sophistry your responsibility extends to any matter of art.”