"Picking your teeth with your finger is wrong, too," said Mr. Jobson,
taking a breath. "Food should be removed in a--a--un-undemonstrative
fashion with the tip of the tongue."

"I wasn't," said Gladys.

"A knife," pursued her father--"a knife should never in any circumstances
be allowed near the mouth."

"You've made mother cut herself," said Gladys, sharply; "that's what
you've done."

"I thought it was my fork," said Mrs. Jobson. "I was so busy listening I
wasn't thinking what I was doing. Silly of me."

"We shall all do better in time," said Mr. Jobson. "But what I want to
know is, what about the gravy? You can't eat it with a fork, and it
don't say nothing about a spoon. Oh, and what about our cold tubs,
mother?"

"Cold tubs?" repeated his wife, staring at him. "What cold tubs?"

"The cold tubs me and Bert ought to 'ave," said Mr. Jobson. "It says in
the book that an Englishman would just as soon think of going without his
breakfus' as his cold tub; and you know how fond I am of my breakfus'."

"And what about me and the gals?" said the amazed Mrs. Jobson.

"Don't you worry about me, ma," said Gladys, hastily.