DIMBIE'S BIRTHDAY
I find, in accordance with Nanty's advice, that I kept Dimbie well out of the last chapter; but he's bound to figure pretty largely in this, for he's had a birthday. A birthday cannot very well be touched upon without referring to the person interested, and Dimbie was extremely interested because of the omelet Amelia made him for breakfast.
On the morning previous I said to Amelia—
"To-morrow is the master's birthday. Now what shall we give him for breakfast? It must be something very nice."
"Pigs' feet."
"Pigs' feet?" I ejaculated.
"Yes, mum. Pigs' feet boiled till juicy and tender, and red cabbage."
"But it's for breakfast," I repeated.
"Yes, mum. You mentioned that."
"But you can't eat pigs' feet for breakfast."