Patsy's eye roved over the rest of the food.
"And after that," he continued, "we will take a bit of whatever is handy."
In a short time there was nothing left on the newspaper but soft sugar, butter, tea, and tobacco. Patsy was abashed.
"I did think that there was more than that," said he.
"I've had enough myself," he continued, "but maybe your honours could eat more."
Two of the angels assured him that they were quite satisfied, but the youngest angel said nothing.
"I'm doubting that you had enough," said Patsy dubiously to him.
"I could eat more if I had it," returned that one with a smile.
Mary went to the cart and returned bearing two cold potatoes and a piece of bread, and she placed these before the young angel. He thanked her and ate these, and then he ate the package of soft sugar, and then he ate a little piece of the butter, but he didn't care for it. He pointed to the plug of tobacco:
"Does this be eaten?" he enquired.