Gray
ready to receive us, and looking perfectly like a Princess who, by
some accident, had a bowl of potatoes in her hand, which vegetables she
placed on the table. Her husband 'was meanwhile cooking mutton-chops on
a gridiron over the fire.
Fanny has made the roly-poly pudding,' says he; the chops are my part.
Here's a fine one; try this, Goldmore.' And he popped a fizzing cutlet
on that gentleman's plate. What words, what notes of exclamation can
describe the nabob's astonishment?
The tablecloth was a very old one, darned in a score places. There was
mustard in a teacup, a silver fork for Goldmore--all ours were iron.
'I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth,' says Gray, gravely.
'That fork is the only one we have. Fanny has it generally.'
'Raymond!'--cries Mrs. Gray, with an imploring face. 'She was used to
better things, you know: and I hope one day to get her a dinner-service.
I'm told the electro-plate is uncommonly good. Where the deuce IS
that boy with the beer? And now,' said he, springing up, 'I'll be a
gentleman.' And so he put on his coat, and sat down quite gravely, with
four fresh mutton-chops which he had by this time broiled.
'We don't have meat every day, Mr. Goldmore,' he continued, 'and it's a
treat to me to get a dinner like this. You little know, you gentlemen of
England, who live at home at ease, what hardships briefless barristers
endure.
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