"A strong cup of tea will help," he assures her. "I often find my nerves are settled much better with some tea! Come, tell us what happened," he says, and flutters about for something for her to sit on which will not suffer with the wet. The hesitation as he tries to find something is clear -- he has some sympathy, but not quite enough to let her ruin good furniture. Or sit on a chair he likes. Eventually he grabs a small wooden stool (one in reality used for stepping on to reach high shelves) and offers it to her with a fixed grimace of a smile.