court-yard without caring a straw for the victuals. But both fathers and mothers when out visiting take a particular pride in their children behaving well at table. But just now it seemed to us that we dared, verily, ten times more boldly dance a hornpipe than sit quiet and well behaved at table.
After we had been seated thus about half an hour at table Uncle John entered the room.
All rose and greeted him in a friendly manner, but everything was carried on constrainedly, or rather with a kind of indescribable fear as if behind each greeting lurked a dagger. Only formal inquiries were made as to how he was, what he was doing, and so forth. Uncle John answered drily; on his brow was something like spite, and he fixed his eyes on the ground, and would not look at us. And then when we children greeted him he made no response to our salutation, and it never occurred to us that we could possibly have got from him any coppers for goodies.
He sat at table. Grandmother gave him soup on a plate, but Uncle John did not touch it.
“Lord save us,” said grandfather, with the short laugh which was natural to him, “and well-a-day! When a man cuts his mutton elsewhere he looses his appetite for what he gets at home.”
“Particularly with the seasoning one gets at home,” answered Uncle John, and leant his head on his hands.
Grandfather after that was silent, but his hands trembled. Indeed, he cut some meat and the knife slipped on the plate.
Grandfather certainly did not look at uncle, but all the same he saw what uncle was doing.
