"And I've forgotten my baby prayer, of course," continued Humphrey; "it's so very very long since I used to say it—— I'll tell you what, Miles, you might say your grace!"
"My grace?" said Miles, rather scared; "why, that isn't prayers, is it, Humphie?"
"Oh, yes, it is," answered Humphrey; "in your little book of 'Prayers for Children,' your grace has got at the top of it, 'A prayer after meat.' Meat, you know, means breakfast, dinner, and tea; even if you only have bread and butter, or sop."
"Does it?" exclaimed Miles. "I thought meat was only beef and mutton—hardly chicken!"
"Ah! but it does, though," said Humphrey, in a superior tone; "you don't know, Miles. There's lots of things you don't know yet. Why you thought grace wasn't prayers, and yet it is. Now say this after me: 'For what I have received, may the Lord make me truly thankful.'"
"Why! that's your grace, Humphie, not mine! Mine is only, 'Thank God for my good breakfast.'"
"That will do," said Humphrey.
"But, Humphie! I've not had my breakfast! How can I say it?"
"To be sure," said Humphrey, reflectively, "that makes it very awkward. You've not even had a bit of bread. If you'd only had a biscuit, it would have done—it's very unlucky."