“She gives the dear boys plenty to eat,” said Eleanor; and she provided for us that evening in the same liberal spirit.
What a feast we had! Strong tea, and abundance of sugar and rich cream. We laid the delicious butter on our bread in such thick clumps, that sallow-faced Madame would have thought us in peril of our lives. There was brown bread toast, too; and fried ham and eggs, and moor honey, and Yorkshire tea-cakes. In the middle of the table Keziah had placed a large punch-bowl, filled with roses.
And all the dogs were on the hearth, and they all had tea with us.
After tea we tried to talk, but were so sleepy that the words died away on our heavy lips. So we took Keziah’s advice and went to bed.
“Keziah has put the chair-bed into my room, Margery dear,” said Eleanor.
“I am so glad,” said I. “I would rather be with you.”
“Would you like a dog to sleep with you?” Eleanor politely inquired. “I shall have Growler inside, and my big boy outside. Pincher is a nice little fellow; you’d better have Pincher.”
I took Pincher accordingly, and Pincher took the middle of the bed.
We were just dropping off to sleep when Eleanor said, “If Pincher snores, darling, hit him on the nose.”
“All right,” said I. “Good-night.” I had begun a confused dream, woven from my late experiences, when Eleanor’s voice roused me once more.