The frugal refection was laid before the lean man. “Cat-lap base!” he muttered, swallowing the scalding hot bohea, that was strongly impregnated with Sir Hugh Middleton, and champing the dry biscuit.
“Another round of toast for Lady Teaser!”
“Buttered on both sides,” growled the lean man, sarcastically; and he began to number with his skinny fingers, as if counting the cost.
Uncle Timothy was the last person in the world to flout a threadbare coat, because it is threadbare, or take a man for a sharper because he happens to be sharp-witted or sharp-set. Your full-fed fool he thought quite as likely to have nefarious designs on his purse, as the hungry humorist who at once lets you into the secret of his starvation. If he be deserving as well as poor, it was gratifying to Uncle Tim that he had made honest poverty forget its privations for a season; and should he prove a shirking idler on the pavé—, he had not been taken in at any vast expense. Reflections like these crossed his mind—and he left the room.
On his return, he found the lean man still counting with his fingers. Presently the waiter spread the table with a snow-white cloth; the clattering of knives and forks, plates and spoons, roused the lean man from his reverie; he gazed wistfully at the preparations, and looked thrice famished.
There is a story of a tyrant, who, to add to the natural torments of starvation, caused a roast chicken to be suspended every day before the prison bars of his victim, until he expired. Just such a tormentor, unwittingly, was Uncle Timothy. For the garçon again appeared, bearing a dish of broiled ham and poached eggs, the sight and aroma of which seared the eye-balls and tantalised the pinched nostrils of the lean man. At the same moment, “Another round for Lady Teaser!” tolled a twopenny knell in his ears.
“My friend not arrived yet?” said Uncle Timothy.
“No, sir,” replied the garçon slyly, but respectfully.
“Let him pay, then, for his want of punctuality. I wait for nobody. Will you, sir,” politely addressing the lean man, “do me the favour to be my guest? Though I have ordered supper for two, I cannot command appetite for two.”
The lean man stared irresolutely at Uncle Timothy. Hunger and Pride were at fisticuffs; but Hunger hit pride such a blow in the stomach, that Pride gave up the contest.