Every one looked with perfect admiration at Mr Sharpe, surprised at his magnanimity, and Mrs Harvey thought that she must have altogether mistaken his character hitherto; but she would not have thought so, had she known that he had purposely procured a rotten basket, with the bottom partially broken, in which he had packed a quantity of broken glass, and in which he (of course) had not packed either spoons, knives, or forks, except the very one which Murphy had held up; and it was to prevent examination or inquiry that he had been so voluble upon his arrival in the morning. But had his loss been, as the company supposed, real instead of fictitious, he must have been gratified, nay delighted, at the dismay which gradually spread itself over almost every countenance, at the prospect of having to eat a dinner without knives, forks, or spoons, and to drink without glasses, or even cups.
“Gentlemen,” said Mr Harvey, “have you got penknives with you? I have forgotten mine.”
So had every one else except Mr Sharpe. He would willingly have kept it secret, but he knew that if he should attempt to use it himself, it would be seen; so he made a virtue of necessity, and lent it to Mr Harvey for the purpose of carving the roast beef!
The dinner was now nearly arranged, and the last basket, in which Mulholland had packed the roast beef, was opened. The remnant of an old college gown was first dragged forth, and Mr O’Brien’s servant, to whom the task was assigned, looked in, tittered, looked again, and then drew forth two long large ribs, with a piece of meat about the size of a cricket ball attached to the ends of them. Having laid them on the dish, he dipped again, and produced, with another titter, a shapeless lump of meat without any bone—(he would be a clever anatomist that could tell what part of the beast it had been). Another dip, and with a roar of laughter he raised and deposited on the dish four ribs, from which nearly every morsel of meat had been cut.
“What is the meaning of this, Mr O’Gorman?” said Mrs Harvey, who was quite disconcerted at the turn things had taken, and was now seriously disposed to be angry.
“My dear madam,” said he, “it may look a little unsightly, but it is all prime meat, depend upon it. It was dressed yesterday for the College dining-hall.”
“You don’t mean, surely, to call bare bones meat, sir?”
“My dear madam,” said Bob, “you will find that there is as much meat without bone as will compensate. Mulholland is a very honest fellow in that respect.”
Some laughed, some were annoyed, some were disgusted; but by degrees hunger asserted its rights, and reconciled them a little, especially when O’Gorman pointed out how much easier it would be to carve the small pieces with a penknife, than if they had but one large one.
“Well,” said Mrs Harvey, “I have long indulged the hope of having a pic-nic party so perfectly arranged that nothing should go astray; and so far have I been from succeeding, that I really do think there never was a more unfortunate, irregular affair. I really do not know what to say, and I feel quite incompetent to preside. Mr O’Gorman, as you have the happy knack of making the best of every thing, I believe you are the person best qualified in this company to make the most of the matter, and we must rely on your ingenuity.”