looking at the dinner-table, which offered to his view nothing but a
table-cloth, with the salt-cellar and the snuff-box. "Why, mother, is it
dead low water, or have you stowed all away in the locker?" and Newton
repaired to the cupboard, which was locked.

Now Mrs Forster was violent with others, but with Newton she was always
sulky.

"There's nothing in the cupboard," growled the lady.

"Then why lock up nothing?" rejoined Newton, who was aware that veracity
was not among Mrs Forster's catalogue of virtues. "Come, mother, hand me
the key, and I'll ferret out something, I'll answer for it."

Mrs Forster replied that the cupboard was her own, and she was mistress
of the house.

"Just as you please, mother. But, before I take the trouble, tell me,
father, is there anything in the cupboard?"

"Why, yes, Newton, there's some mutton. At least, if I recollect right,
I did not eat it all--did I, my dear?"

Mrs Forster did not condescend an answer. Newton went into the shop, and
returned with a chisel and hammer. Taking a chair to stand upon, he very
coolly began to force the lock.

"I am very sorry, mother, but I must have something to eat; and since
you won't give me the key, why--" observed Newton, giving the handle of
the chisel a smart blow with the hammer--