“‘It’s a pity I can’t serve things in their right order,’ he said, as he pulled out a quantity of apples from one end of the basket,—‘but you see the dinner has gone in here head foremost. I never saw anything so troublesome to pack. There’s a loaf of bread, now, that has no business to show itself so forward in the world; but here it comes—— Sue, you’ll want a knife and fork.’
“And he set a deep, longish dish, with a cover, on the table, and then a flat round dish with a cover. Sue looked stupefied. Roswald glanced at her.
“‘Your appetite hasn’t gone, Sue, has it?’
“But she got up and came round to him, and put her face in her two hands down on his shoulder, and cried very hard indeed.
“‘Why, Sue!’ said Roswald, gently,—‘I never expected to see you cry for your dinner.’
“But Sue’s tears didn’t stop.
“‘I’ll put all the things back in the basket if you say so,’ said Roswald, smiling.
“‘I don’t say any such thing,’ said Sue, lifting up her tearful face and kissing his cheek; and then she went round to her seat and sat down with her head in her hands. Roswald, in his turn, got up and went to her, and took hold of her hands.
“‘Come, Sue,—what’s the matter? that isn’t fair. Look here, my porridge is growing cold.’
“And Sue laughed and cried together.