Now, love, if she was only living with us--come, you're not asleep,
Caudle--if she was only living with us, you could have marrow
puddings every day. Now, don't fling yourself about and begin to
swear at marrow puddings; you know you like 'em, dear.

"What a hand, too, dear mother has for a pie crust! But it's born
with some people. What do you say?

"WHY WASN'T IT BORN WITH ME?

"Now, Caudle, that's cruel--unfeeling of you; I wouldn't have uttered
such a reproach to you for the whole world. Consider, dear; people
can't be born as they like.

"How often, too, have you wanted to brew at home! And I never could
learn anything about brewing. But, ha! what ale dear mother makes!

"YOU NEVER TASTED IT?

"No, I know that. But I recollect the ale we used to have at home:
and father would never drink wine after it. The best sherry was
nothing like it.

"YOU DARE SAY NOT?

"No; it wasn't indeed, Caudle. Then, if dear mother was only with
us, what money we should save in beer! And then you might always
have your own nice pure, good, wholesome ale, Caudle; and what good
it would do you! For you're not strong, Caudle.