But I, determining not to be dainty, said it looked jolly good and I would have some.
'Take it away, Brown, she's not going to eat hoofs and get a pain in her gizzard to start off with. Give her some pudding.'
Ross helped himself liberally to bread and butter and cheese.
'What funny butter,' he observed.
'Margarine, sir.'
'Oh, how tiring,' said Ross, pushing it away, 'give me a clean plate. Why can't they colour it blue?'
Coffee consisted of a jug of hot milk and some black stuff in a bottle.
We adjourned to the fire and I had quite a nice supper of hot milk and biscuits, apples, and chocolates; and we talked and talked, and got a bit levelled up with life after five years of separation.
Then I went to bed. But, oh, not to sleep. The family's appalling habit of leaving doors half open prevented that, and I heard Ross say to Brown when he came up to bed (his voice does carry so), 'What's to be done, Sam, they can't stop here?'
'Certainly not, Master Ross. Never saw such a dinner in my life, though the cooking was all right.'