“Shut up!” I said indignantly; “have you just found that out?”
“Well, don’t hit a fellow,” he cried. “I say, have a bit?”
“Bit of what?” I cried, as I realised how hungry I had grown.
“Taller,” he said. “Some on it run down. There ain’t much; two or three little nobbles. I’ll give yer a fair whack.”
“Why, you don’t mean to eat that, you nasty fellow,” I cried.
“Don’t!” he said; “but I do. Here’s your half. I’ve eat worse things than that.”
“Why, Shock,” I cried, as a flash of hope ran through me, “I forgot.”
“Forgot what?” he cried. “Way out?”
“No,” I said gloomily; “but my sandwiches—bread and meat Mrs Solomon cut for me.”
“Bread and meat!” he shouted. “Where is it?”