And at dinner Humpty was in his most genial mood. He was not as a rule genial at the midday repast, to which as often as not he hurried in late, only to hurry out again as soon as he had consumed abstractedly the portion set aside for him; but on the present occasion he subsided into his armchair at the foot of the table with a leisurely, tranquil air that spoke of a mind at ease for the time being.
He enjoyed his roast chicken and green peas. He had himself cut the asparagus and cut it bountifully. Mary was bidden to observe how asparagus ought to be cut—a couple of inches, not more, below the surface of the earth; and it should never be allowed to grow too high; the flavour was lost when it had been long above ground; furthermore, it should be carried straight from the bed to the pot—but here Mary laughed outright.
"What are you laughing at?" demanded he.
"You, who never give your food a chance! Tommy knows,"—and the careful housewife continued to laugh, looking at Tommy, "he has to put down your plate to the fire five days out of six."
"No, no, Mary."
"And often you could not tell me what's on it if I asked! And if we did not look after your digestion——"
"Well, well; I know what's good, when I have time to think about it. And since you are so keen on my digestion, have you a mind to give Tommy and me a treat?" nodding at her—"make us some coffee!"
"And we'll take it out-of-doors," continued the doctor, rising and throwing his napkin aside. "Under the trees yonder. Bring your pipe, Tommy; you and I don't often enjoy a lazy hour, but a man must break his rule sometimes. Come along,"—and he led the way.
Of course Tommy saw, and at first Tommy was inclined to resent. So he was to be treated like a child, a child who has had his toy taken from him and is to be comforted with other things? He had been allowed to go out in the sunshine—(on a bogus errand, he suspected; certainly Mrs. Brooks had not expected a medical visit that morning)—and now his inner man was being consoled and pampered, and the raw wound which still bled from the knife so unsparingly applied the day before, was to be blandly ignored. He felt both hurt and angry.
But the roast chicken was very good, and so was the currant tart with cream—and he had covered many miles on an empty stomach, and was young, and as a rule, ravenous. For the life of him he could not help clearing his plate.