It was time for the monthly Children’s Council meeting. With his notes in hand, Father sat before the group expecting to hear the standard requests – for field trips Above, for fewer research papers, for more swim meets beneath the falls, for later bed times. Imaging his shock and surprise when the meeting was caleld to order and the agenda opened for topics.

“We’re tired of having to go topside for Cokes, Father! It’s not fair!” Samantha gathered her courage and stood up. “We’re the only kids in New York who can’t have soda pop with our suppers!”

“Yeah,” Zach added, a studied look of deprivation on his face. “And we want something for snacks besides apples and cheese. That stuff William cut up today … it was funny looking. We want chips … chips and salsa. No, wait! Nachos!”

 “You want … what?”

There was a moment of complete silence. Then Father drew in a long, pursed-lipped breath. “That cheese was a Montgomery English cheddar! By funny looking … do you mean its color? It is supposed to be beige! I found it nutty and smooth with an almost bewildering bouquet of flavors. It was a gift from one of our Helpers! A rare delicacy, and one I’ve not savored in years! Funny looking …” His voice trailed away.

What is our world coming to? He felt a shudder coming on – already his foot was tapping, tapping. But he recovered and pointed a (fairly) steady finger.

“Surely you all remember your health and nutrition lessons! It is never too early to start watching your cholesterol and salt intake. And sugar! Have you forgotten the experiment we performed with Eric’s last lost tooth? When we submerged it in Coca-Cola?”

“Surely you all remember your health and nutrition lessons! It is never too early to start watching your cholesterol and salt intake. And sugar! Have you forgotten the experiment we performed with Eric’s last lost tooth? When we submerged it in Coca-Cola?”

“Come on, Father,” chimed in one young boy. “You like cookies. You keep a stash in your desk drawer. I’ve seen them.”

A strangled rumble in his throat, Father stared from child to child.

 “Bummer,” said Samantha. “I knew he wouldn’t go for it.

Father adjourned the meeting, setting a second one for the same time the next day. Gleeful to be set free, the children rushed from the chamber.

“No doubt they’ll be in the park in minutes, handing over their hard-earned quarters to a street vendor.” Rubbing his forehead, Father groaned inwardly. “Whatever shall I do? We must maintain standards. We must strive for a vaulted, cultured community.” Glum, he slumped in his chair.

He heard a familiar rustling in the corridor, a swoop of cloak and a quick, sure step. Father’s shoulders relaxed. “Of course!,” he crowed. “Vincent! Vincent will know what to do!”

“Father! I thought you’d be in the midst of your Children’s Council meeting. Is it over so soon? You usually keep them at least an hour.”

“You won’t believe what happened,” Father said, proceeding to tell him everything.

“You have quite the rapport with the young ones. Perhaps you might attend a meeting as a … a guest lecturer?” Honey coated every word. “Explain to them the difference between A Double Gloucester and … and … that orange … substance … that squirts from a can!”

Muffled by the many books open and stacked on Father’s desk, a hidden timer dinged. “Oh good,” he said. “The tea is ready. You’ll have a cup, won’t you?”

“A quick one, yes, but soon I must be going,” Vincent replied.

“You’re off … where?” Father asked, bearing over two steaming mugs.

Vincent answered with only a vague smile and sipped from his cup. He tilted his head in thought. “I do have an idea.”

“Oh, I just knew you would! What is it?”

“I can’t believe you’ve forgotten.” Vincent said, bracing his arms on the desk. “When Devin and I were young, you held conversations in the dining hall every day at four o’clock. In class, you’d casually mention the tray of pastries and sandwiches before you every afternoon. Then you’d have your pot of tea, and you’d wait to see if anyone would join you. It wasn’t long until a few of us ventured in, willing to exchange talk for scones and cakes before supper.” Vincent swirled his tea, inhaling the scent of smoky bergamot and citrus. “We learned to appreciate life’s finer things through those conversations, Father. We practiced our listening skills, learned respect for others’ opinions. We acquired manners and social graces that would take … any of us up and into the world.”

“Yes! Yes! I could institute the ritual again. Why did I ever let it go by the wayside?” Father sighed. “I suppose I was distracted one day, busy the next. But yes, indeed, I will begin again. Tomorrow. I’ll enlist Mary’s help right away.”

Vincent rose to leave, bending to Father’s cheek, chuckling at his ear. “Remember Winslow trying to manage his china cup? His knee bounced up and down, and he couldn’t balance the saucer. His fingers fit nowhere.”

Father looked up from his mug. “I thought Devin might be in danger, he laughed so when Winslow raised his little finger … as he’d been instructed! Ahh, but he made the best cucumber sandwiches. I thought once he might become the next kitchen manager. It was a snip of chive, I think, that set Winslow’s apart.”

“Chive?” Vincent questioned as he ascended the steps. “I thought it was mint. Find Mary. She’ll know what to do next.

Wasting no time in searching Mary out, Father relayed to her the happenings of the Children’s Council meeting and Vincent’s suggestions. “So you see, Mary, we must combat the intrusion of the rude world. The next thing you know, we’ll be having … hot dogs and root beer for supper.” Father rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

Mary took his arm. “I rather enjoyed a root beer float once upon a time. I dare say I wouldn’t mind another. Jacob, it’s a fine idea to reinstitute your conversations and afternoon tea, and I’m glad to help with the planning and the fare, but honestly, if you equate soda pop and chips with the rude world, you really do need to get out more.”

A notice was posted directing the children to the dining hall for the next day’s planned, late-afternoon meeting. William, when Father enlisted him, was elated at the chance to show off his pastry skills and spent the evening pouring over cookbooks and his recipe box. The next morning he rose early … sped to the kitchen. By four o’clock, spread atop the sideboards was a vast array of savory appetizers and delicate sweets. All manner of teacups and teapots decorated an oak buffet; tins of different teas covered another.

Before he began the clean-up, William surveyed the room, pleased with his efforts.

The long dining tables had been pushed to the wall, and chairs and sofas pulled to the center, flanking several low benches. Father stood in the corridor as the children trooped in. At the sight of the irresistable choices before them, their eyes lit up. After they settled into their seats, when their gazes traveled reluctantly from the tabletop to his, he clapped his hands for attention and smiled. A cast of wariness shadowed every attendee’s face – a look Father studiously ignored. 

“I’ve had some time to think, and I want you all to know I’m quite happy to entertain your requests. We’ll write them all down for consideration and meet again soon. And I’d like your input on topics of conversation – current events, issues of philosophy or art, mysteries of the universe, even … sports. I’ll be here in the dining hall every weekday afternoon at four having my tea. I invite any or all of you to join me. We’ll talk … and though we can’t possibly have such an elaborate tea every afternoon, there will always be some treat at table.

“Doesn’t everything look just scrummy! Let’s have our refreshments, shall we? Let’s put aside all our issues and just have, ummm, fun. Tell me … who here knows the difference between High Tea and Afternoon Tea?” Father scanned his audience, rocking up onto his toes. He waved a sheaf of papers in the air. “No one has a guess? Well, here I have just the thing, a guide book … to tea.