Handycock had already devoured two of the whitings, leaving only one on
the dish for his wife and me. "Vould you like a little bit of viting, my
dear?" said the lady to me. "It's not worth halving," observed the
gentleman, in a surly tone, taking up the fish with his own knife and
fork, and putting it on his plate.

"Well, I'm so glad you like them, my dear," replied the lady meekly;
then turning to me, "there's some nice roast _weal_ coming, my dear."

The veal made its appearance, and fortunately for us, Mr Handycock could
not devour it all. He took the lion's share, nevertheless, cutting off
all the brown, and then shoving the dish over to his wife to help
herself and me. I had not put two pieces in my mouth before Mr Handycock
desired me to get up and hand him the porter-pot, which stood on the
sideboard. I thought that if it was not right for me to open a door,
neither was it for me to wait at table--but I obeyed him without making
a remark.

After dinner, Mr Handycock went down to the cellar for a bottle of wine.
"O deary me!" exclaimed his wife, "he must have lost a mint of money--we
had better go up stairs and leave him alone; he'll be better after a
bottle of port, perhaps." I was very glad to go away, and being very
tired, I went to bed without any tea, for Mrs Handycock dared not
venture to make it before her husband came up stairs.




Chapter II