“Why wasn’t it born with me?
“Now, Caudle, that’s cruel - unfeeling of you; I wouldn’t have uttered such a reproach to you for the whole world. Consider, dear; people can’t be born as they like.
“How often, too, have you wanted to brew at home! And I never could learn anything about brewing. But, ha! what ale dear mother makes!
“You never tasted it?
“No, I know that. But I recollect the ale we used to have at home: and father would never drink wine after it. The best sherry was nothing like it.
“You dare say not?
“No; it wasn’t indeed, Caudle. Then, if dear mother was only with us, what money we should save in beer! And then you might always have your own nice pure, good, wholesome ale, Caudle; and what good it would do you! For you’re not strong, Caudle.
“And then dear mother’s jams and preserves, love! I own it, Caudle; it has often gone to my heart that with cold meat you haven’t always had a pudding. Now if mother was with us, in the matter of fruit puddings she’d make it summer all the year round. But I never could preserve - now mother does it, and for next to no money whatever. What nice dogs-in-a-blanket she’d make for the children!
“What’s dogs-in-a-blanket?
“Oh, they’re delicious - as dear mother makes ’em.