The child put on the shirt, and the man slipped the knitted jacket over it.
"Now...."
The man kicked the stool forward and made the little boy sit down, again shoving him by the shoulders; then he pointed with his finger to the porringer which was smoking upon the stove. What the child saw in the porringer was again heaven to him—namely, a potato and a bit of bacon.
"You are hungry; eat!"
The man took from the shelf a crust of hard bread and an iron fork, and handed them to the child.
The boy hesitated.
"Perhaps you expect me to lay the cloth," said the man, and he placed the porringer on the child's lap.
"Gobble that up."
Hunger overcame astonishment. The child began to eat. The poor boy devoured rather than ate. The glad sound of the crunching of bread filed the hut. The man grumbled,—
"Not so quick, you horrid glutton! Isn't he a greedy scoundrel? When such scum are hungry, they eat in a revolting fashion. You should see a lord sup. In my time I have seen dukes eat. They don't eat; that's noble. They drink, however. Come, you pig, stuff yourself!"