"You want butter, do you?" repeated Mr. Mudge. "Perhaps you'd like a
slice of beefsteak and a piece of plum-pudding too, wouldn't you?"

"I should very much," said Paul, resolved to tell the truth, although he
now began to perceive the sarcasm in his landlady's tone.

"There isn't anything more you would like, is there?" inquired the lady,
with mock politeness.

"No, ma'am," returned Paul after a pause, "I believe not, to-day."

"Very moderate, upon my word," exclaimed Mrs. Mudge, giving vent at
length to her pentup indignation. "You'll be contented with butter and
roast beef and plum-pudding! A mighty fine gentleman, to be sure. But
you won't get them here, I'll be bound."

"So will I," thought Aunt Lucy.

"If you ain't satisfied with what I give you," pursued Mrs. Mudge,
"you'd better go somewhere else. You can put up at some of the great
hotels. Butter, forsooth!"

Having thus given expression to her feelings, she left the room, and
Paul was left to finish his dinner with the best appetite he could
command. He was conscious that he had offended Mrs. Mudge, but the
thoughts of his recent great sorrow swallowed up all minor annoyances,
so that the words of his estimable landlady were forgotten almost as
soon as they were uttered. He felt that he must henceforth look for far
different treatment from that to which he had been accustomed during his