“He said he’d carry a sandwich with him this morning, instead of coming home to dinner. I said, ‘No.’ And afterwards I was such a simpleton as to yield! And here’s the effects of it! Sit yourself down in the easy-chair,” she added, taking Jenkins by the arms and pushing him into it. “And I’ll make the tea now,” concluded she, turning to the table where the tea-things were set out. “There’s some broiled fowl coming up for you.”
“I don’t feel as if I could eat this evening,” Jenkins ventured to say.
“Not eat!” she repeated with emphasis. “You had better eat—that’s all. I don’t want to have you falling down exhausted here, as you did in the Boundaries.”
“And as soon as you have had your tea, you should go to bed,” put in Arthur.
“I can’t, sir. I have three or four hours’ work at that deed. It must be done.”
“At this?” returned Arthur, opening the papers he had carried home. “Oh, I see; it is a lease. I’ll copy this for you, Jenkins. I have nothing to do to-night. You take your ease, and go to bed.”
And in spite of their calls, Jenkins’s protestations against taking up his time and trouble, and Mrs. Jenkins’s proffered invitation to partake of tea and broiled fowl, Arthur departed carrying off the work.