eautifully clean, and so were the
silver table-spoons, and the silver mug at the end where old Jonas sat.
While, to make the table thoroughly attractive to us hungry boys, who
had been walking all the morning, there was a good-sized cold salmon on
a big dish; a great piece of cold ham; a large round loaf that looked as
if it had been baked in a basin, and a plate of butter and a dish of
thick yellow cream.

These substantial things had a good effect upon Bob Chowne, whose face
began to look smooth and pleasant, and who showed his satisfaction
farther by kicking me under the table, for he was afraid to make any
more remarks, because we could hear Jonas Uggleston, in some place at
the back, blowing and splashing as if he were washing himself in a
bucket; and of this last there was no doubt, for we heard the handle
rattle, then a loud splash, as if he had thrown the dirty water out of
the window, and the bucket set down and the handle rattling again.

This made Bob kick me again painfully, and he grinned and his eyes
seemed to say, "No jug and basin, and no washstand."

Just then Bigley came in with a great brown jug of cider, smiling all
over his face.

"I say, I am glad father has asked you to stop," he said. "We'll get
him to let us have the boat after dinner."

Just then old Jonas came in without his otter-skin cap, combing the
thick grisly fringe round his head, the top of which was quite bare; and
directly after from another door--for there were doors nearly
everywhere, because Jonas Uggleston had built the cottage very small at
first and then kept on adding rooms, and kitchens, and wash-house with
stores--Mother Bonnet came in, an elderly plump woman, who always put me
in mind of a cider apple when it was ripe.

Mother Bonnet was Binnacle Bill's wife, and lived at the cottage on the
other side of the stream, but she came and "did for" Master Uggleston,
as she called it; that is to say, she cooked and kept the house clean;
and she bore in hand a dish of hot new potatoes, which were very scarce
things with us and a deal thought of by some people for a treat.

She nodded to us all in turn, and was going away again, when Jonas
shouted "Winegar," and Mother Bonnet hurriedly produced a big black
bottle from a corner cupboard, and placed it upon the table.

That was about as rough a dinner as Bob Chowne and I had ever sat down
to, but how delicious it was!

"'Live last night," said Jonas, digging great pieces of