Her father bit his lip, hacked off a wing in ominous silence, and
put it upon her plate.

"Now run away,--and don't let me have any more of this nonsense,
dear." The last word was a terrible effort.

Nell's appearance with the two portions of fowl was hailed with
uproarious applause in the nursery; Meg was delighted with her
share; cut apiece off for Baby, and the meal went on merrily.

"Where's Bunty? ", said Nell, pausing suddenly with a very clean
drumstick in her fingers, "because I HOPE he hasn't gone
too; someway I don't think Father was very pleased, especially
as that man was there."

But that small youth had done so, and returned presently
crestfallen.

"He wouldn't give me any--he told me to go away, and the man
laughed, and Esther said we were very naughty--I got some
feathered potatoes, though, from the table outside the door."

He opened his dirty little hands and dropped the uninviting
feathered delicacy out upon the cloth.

"Bunty, you're a pig," sighed Meg, looking up from her book.
She always read at the table, and this particular story was
about some very refined, elegant girls.

"Pig yourself all of you've had fowl but me, you greedy things!"