THE RAINBOW BOOK
" Or three — or four — or five — or — " The Kettle might have sung on into billions had he not begun to choke over it, and splutter, and gurgle. Then he grew vexed, and snorted, and got angrier and angrier, until finally, in order to breathe more easily, he knocked his lid on one side, and began to boil with rage.
" Ha, ha!" laughed the Teapot mockingly. " The old fellow's getting his steam up. Pray don't de-range yourself, sir, on our account. He, he ! He's getting water on his nob !"
This didn't seem to comfort the Kettle much.
" What do you think about it, Spoonies ? " added the Teapot. But the Spoons heeded him not. They were conversing quietly in couples, and didn't care to be drawn into argument. So he turned his attention elsewhere, bent on brewing discord. " People are so thoughtless," he complained, turning a cold shoulder to the others. " Muggins, my boy, I'm beginning to get quite chilly ; just go and fetch my cosy coat." He knew this was an impossibility, and he only said it in order to pick a quarrel. But, noticing a distant Plate who was openly laughing at him, he cuttingly remarked : " Seen the plumber, lately ? " Now, the Plate happened to be suffering severely from rivets, an infirmity which she vainly tried to hide, and which she hated to be noticed. So, getting