Tom raised a little to her lips, cautiously, for it was a new dish to her, and she did not know whether she would like it. It seemed to be satisfactory, however, none being left upon her plate when she had finished eating.
Not much conversation went on during the meal. Tom’s entire energies were given to disposing of the squarest meal in which she had ever indulged, and the captain’s attention was divided between his breakfast and the young waif upon whom he was bestowing perfect bliss.
At length Tom’s efforts relaxed. She laid down her knife and fork, and heaved a sigh of exquisite enjoyment.
“Well,” said the captain, “would you like some more?”
“No,” said Tom, “I’m full.”
“Did you enjoy your breakfast?”
“Didn’t I, just?” and Tom’s tone spoke volumes.
“I’m glad of that. I think it’s very good myself.”
“You’re a brick!” said Tom, in a tone of grateful acknowledgment.
“Thank you,” said Captain Barnes, his eyes twinkling a little; “I try to be.”