“It means that he would resent an accusation of falsehood, sir.”
“Pray do not misunderstand me; I would shrink from accusing him of any conduct unworthy of an officer and a gentleman. But I was certainly deceived in fancying that the ear-trumpet was a musical instrument.”
Fanny made no reply. Her attention was directed to the entrance of two servants, one bearing a large urn, the other a dish on which lay an immense ham.
“I hope you have an appetite, Miss Burney,” said young Thomas. “If so, you will be able to stay it at that table, I'll warrant. Tea and cake may be well enough for such as dine at four, but for us, who are three hours earlier, something more substantial is needed. You will find that there is no stint in this house.”
Fanny had an idea that the young man meant to suggest that she would find the tea-table at the Poultry to make a striking contrast to that of St. Martin's Street; and she was not mistaken.
Neither was he. A greater contrast could scarcely be imagined. When Fanny was formally conducted to a seat at the table by the side of young Mr. Barlowe, she found herself confronting such a variety of eatables as was absolutely bewildering. The first glance that she had at the dishes had a stunning effect upon her. Her impression was one of repletion; she felt that that glance was by itself equivalent to a hearty meal—a heavy meal. She felt inclined to turn her head away.
But a moment afterwards she became alert. Here was food—ample food for an amusing letter to Mr. Crisp, and, later, for a chapter in a possible novel. She would let nothing escape her notice.
She settled down to observe everything; and her stepmother, sitting opposite to her, knew from the twinkle in her eyes, that Thomas's suit was hopeless. She had heard that music is the food of love. She was not sure of this; but she was convinced that butcher's meat was not. That was where she saw that Thomas had made his mistake. He had placed too much dependence upon that great ham. He carved that ham with all the solemnity that should accompany such a rite, not knowing that he was slicing away all his chances of commending himself to Fanny.