The butler looked more severe than ever, and left the room.
“He’s always grumbling, Max—here, have some marmalade.”
Max took a little of the golden preserve, and began to spread it on a piece of bread.
“You are a fellow,” said Kenneth mockingly; “that isn’t the way to eat marmalade. Put a lot of butter on first.”
“What, with jam?”
“Of course,” said Kenneth, with a grin, as he gave a piece of bread a thick coating of yellow butter, and then plastered it with the golden red-rinded sweet. “That’s the way to eat marmalade!” he cried, taking, out a fine half-moon from the slice. “That’s the economical way.”
“Extravagant, you mean?”
“No, I don’t; I mean economical. Don’t you see it saves the bread? One piece does for both butter and marmalade.”
“I don’t know how you manage to eat so much. You had a fried herring and—”
“A piece of salmon, and some game pie, and etceteras. That’s nothing. I often have a plate of porridge as well. You’ll eat as much as I do when you’ve been down here a week.”