About midday the maid came again bringing a tray. "Here's your food,
starved puppy; lap it up, and may it choke you," she said, and left the
room.

After she had been gone a few minutes, Fan, beginning to feel hungry,
went to the table, and found a plate of stewed meat and vegetables, with
bread and cheese, and a glass of ale. But over it all Rosie had carefully
sprinkled ashes, and had also dropped a few pinches into the ale, making
it thick and muddy. Now, although on any previous day of her hungry
orphaned existence she would have wiped off the ashes and eaten the food,
on this occasion she determined not to touch it. Her new surroundings and
dress, and the thought that she was no longer without someone to care for
her, had served to inspire in her a pride which was stronger than hunger.
Presently she noticed that the door had a key to it, and in her
indignation at the maid's persecution she ran and locked it, resolved to
let the dinner remain there untasted until Miss Starbrow should return.

Presently Rosie came back, and finding the door locked, began knocking
and calling. "Open, you cat!" she cried. "I must take the things down,
now you've gobbled up your pig's food. Open, you spiteful little devil!"

"I haven't touched the dinner, and I sha'n't open the door till the lady
comes," she answered, and would say no more.

After a good deal more abuse, Rosie in despair went away; but presently
the cook came up, and Fan opened to her. She had a second supply of food
and beer, without any ashes in it this time, and put it on the table.
"Now, have your dinner, miss," she said, with mock humility. She was
taking away the first tray, but at the door she paused and, looking back,