Thompson hovered round the officers, and gave his opinion of the dishes, recommending some, and warning them against others, as his fancy suggested.
"That looks terribly like a boiled dog," he remarked to Crushe, who was turning over a stewed fowl. "It's either that or a cat; don't you eat none of that ere, sir."
The lieutenant left that dish; and seizing another near it, boldly commenced to eat, shutting his eyes to any peculiarity of aspect or taste which he met with during his meal. Puffeigh enjoyed his greatly, but was very much disconcerted by Jerry's remark as he cleared away the last bowl.
"Did you like the last raghot, sir?"
"Well, it wasn't bad; but why do you ask?"
"Oh! it's nothing, sir, only a fancy o' mine."
"What!—wa—what was it?" he fiercely demanded.
"Oh, a mere trifle, sir; only a hinfant's ears left in the dish, that's all, sir; they're fond o' ears, I believe."
"Where's the dish? give it here, you fellow!"
Thompson brought forward the bowl and exhibited two substances which certainly resembled infants' ears, but were in reality those of a young deer, the head of which had been served up with a delicious white sauce. Puffeigh, however, did not know this; and although he pooh pooh'd the affair, and told Jerry that he was a thick-headed fool for his pains, was nevertheless internally uncomfortable, so that a meal perfect in quality and cookery gave him anything but pleasant sensations.