Nurse Elisia

Crick!
“There: just as I expected. The old story. Hard and indigestible as lead.”
“I’m very sorry papa, dear.”
“Sorry! What’s the good of being sorry? You know how I suffer from indigestion, and yet you persist in giving me eggs like that for my breakfast.”
Mr Ralph Elthorne, of Hightoft, in the county of Lincolnshire, threw down the knife with which he had given a savage chop at the side of an egg, as if to cut off the top at a blow, pushed away his plate so that the silver egg-cup fell over sidewise, finishing the breaking of the egg, and letting a thick stream of rich yellow yolk begin to flow, while the irritable gentleman made a snatch at the toast-rack, and uttered an angry ejaculation.
“Will you take tea or coffee, papa, dear?” said the sweet, rather delicate looking girl seated at the head of the table; but there was no reply, and after exchanging glances with the lady, a good-looking, sun-tanned young fellow on her right said:
“Let me send you some of this, father,” and he “made an offer” at the hot water dish before him with a glistening spoon.
“Eh? What is it, Al?”
“Kidneys, sir.”
“Bah! No, I’ve got leather enough here. Look at this. Does that idiotic woman in the kitchen call this dry toast? Look at it. Only fit to make soles for shooting boots.”
“Rather caky,” said the young man, with his mouth full. “Not bad kidneys; nice and hot.”