The sound of crunching footsteps in the new-fallen snow was heard outside a little after eight o'clock, and Honey, looking out of the window, exclaimed joyously:
"'Ere's Sam, with a basket han a coffee-pot!"
Rutherford apologized for the poor fare, but the coffee was excellent, the bread and cold meat were appetizing, and Honey, who was the Mark Tapley of the occasion, voiced the general sentiment when, having aided Sam in spreading the viands on a billiard-table, he said: "Cold wit les is werry heatable when you're 'ungry. Ah!" he added, reflectively, "me an' mother 'as hoften been werry 'ard pushed to get has good has this 'ere."
"You haven't got a mother, have you?" asked Wildfen. He couldn't quite contradict the affirmation of a maternal entity, but came near it, in his tone at least.
"Yessir, I 'ave. That's one reason I married habove me—for to get ha comfortable 'ome for mother. My wife said Hi might bring 'er from Hengland, an' we've brought 'er 'ere to Winchester, to keep 'ouse for us, while me and 'Arriet keeps school."
To cover the general smile at this remark, Rutherford asked Sam how the ladies were getting on.
"Dunno how dey is dis mawnin', mars'r."
"Did Mrs. 'Oney stay?" inquired her husband.
"Yes, sah. I heard missus say her husband done leave her dah; she got stay dah till he done come back an' git her."
"And my Gertrude," asked Mr. Plowden, anxiously, "how was she enjoying herself?"