“Won’t you all come and have breakfast with us?” asked Red Cap.
“Well, I am rather hungry, and I expect Cis is, too. But what have you got for breakfast, Mr. Red Cap?”
“Porridge, to be sure. Didn’t you know we were hard-working Scotch boys? Who else would work as hard, or get as much out of the earth as we do?” answered a gnome in a huffed tone.
“I don’t know, I’m sure; but please don’t be offended,” replied Hal, “we’ll eat some porridge with pleasure.—or try to,” he added in a low voice, for he did not care for porridge at home.
Red Cap led the way to where in the earth was the porridge-pot—a large hole full of boiling cream-coloured porridge, that hissed, and bubbled, and looked tempting enough. Cis and Hal, following the example of their guide, dipped sticks into it, and tasted the smooth paste, and what grimaces they both made, which they tried not to let Red Cap see! For the porridge was anything but pleasant, being like a mixture of rotten eggs and alum.
“Isn’t it good?” asked Red Cap, smacking his lips over it.
“Well,” said Cis, who wished to be polite, “it certainly is well boiled, and it is not at all lumpy, but—isn’t it ra—ther—earthy?”
Then, seeing the gnome’s disappointed face, she added, “But never mind, we’re trying to enjoy it; but I expect you have to be brought up to it, Mr. Red Cap, really to like it.”
“We’ll come for our next picnic here, and bring some tea for you,” said Hal, trying to make friends with Red Cap, “and perhaps you’ll boil the kettle for us—no, I mean, give us the water already boiled. I’m afraid it will smell and taste of rotten eggs, but that can’t be helped,” added Hal, in a low voice, to little Cis, sniffing the sulphurous fumes rising from the boiling cauldrons on all sides.
Santa Claus and the children now walked on, and Cis and Hal, getting accustomed to the strange scenes around, began to feel quite brave.