and to attention, with hands crossed around the
long tables. Then we cleared the tables and marched out to work, each
nursing the vacuum within him, where dinner should have been, and,
presumably, resolving to amend his wicked ways.

Boys are, of course, curious creatures. I have said that we were
always hungry. I think we were. And yet the staple of our breakfast
(which never varied during the whole of my time there) was never once
eaten by me, though I was repeatedly punished for leaving it. The dish
was 'skilly,' or porridge of a kind, with which (except on the
church's somewhat numerous fast-days) we were given treacle. The
treacle I would lap up greedily, but at the porridge my gorge rose. I
simply could not swallow it. Ordinary porridge I had always rather
liked, but this ropy mess was beyond me; and, hungry though I was, I
counted myself fortunate on those mornings when I was able to go empty
away from the breakfast-table without punishment for leaving this
detestable skilly. If Sister Agatha or Sister Catharine were on duty,
it meant that I would have at least one spoonful forced into my mouth
and held there till cold sweat bedewed my face. In addition there
would be pinchings, slappings, and ear-tweakings--very painful, these
last. And sometimes I would be reported, and docked of that day's
dinner to boot. But Sister Mary would more often than not pass me by
without a glance at my bowl, and for that I was profoundly grateful.
In fact, I could almost have loved that good woman, but that she had a
physical affliction which nauseated me. Her breath caused me to
shudder whenever she approached me. She had a mild, cow-like eye,
however, and I do not think I ever saw her kick a boy.

Yes, when I look back upon that queer chapter of my life, I am bound
to admit that, however much they may have neglected opportunities that
were open to them, as moulders of human clay, those four sisters did
accomplish rather wonderful results in ruling St. Peter's Orphanage,
without any appeal to sheer force of arms. There were young men among
us, yet the sisters' rule was never openly defied. I think the secret
must have had to do chiefly with work and food. We were never idle, we
were always hungry, and we never had any opportunities for relaxation.
I never saw any kind of game played at the Orphanage; and on Sundays
devotions of one kind or another were made to fill all intervals
between the different necessary pieces of work, such