tuck-shop,[2]--she bakes such stunning
murphies, we'll have a penn'orth each for tea; come along, or they'll
all be gone."

[2] #Tuck-shop#: cook or pastry shop.

Tom's new purse and money burnt in his pocket; he wondered, as they
toddled through the quadrangle and along the street, whether East
would be insulted if he suggested further extravagance, as he had not
sufficient faith in a pennyworth of potatoes. At last he blurted
out,--

"I say, East, can't we get something else besides potatoes? I've got
lots of money, you know."

"Bless us, yes, I forgot," said East, "you've only just come. You see
all my tin's been gone this twelve weeks; it hardly ever lasts beyond
the first fortnight; and our allowances were all stopped this morning
for broken windows, so I haven't got a penny. I've got a tick[3] at
Sally's of course; but then I hate running it high, you see, towards
the end of the half, 'cause one has to shell out for it all directly
one comes back, and that's a bore."[4]

[3] #Tick#: credit.

[4] #Bore#: an annoyance.

Tom didn't understand much of this talk, but seized on the fact that
East had no money, and was denying himself some little pet luxury in
consequence. "Well, what shall I buy?" said he; "I'm uncommon hungry."

"I say," said East, stopping to look at him and rest his leg, "you're
a trump, Brown. I'll do the same by you next half. Let's have a pound
of sausages, then; that's the best grub for tea I know of."

"Very well," said Tom, as pleased as possible; "where do they sell
them?"

"Oh, over here, just opposite;" and they crossed the street and walked
into the cleanest little front room of a small house, half parlor,
half shop, and bought a pound of most particular sausages; East
talking pleasantly to Mrs. Porter while she put them in paper, and Tom
doing the paying part.

HARROWELL'S.

From Porter's they adjourned to Sally Harrowell's, where they found a
lot of School-house boys waiting for the roast potatoes, and relating
their own exploits in the day's match at the top of their voices. The
street opened at once into Sally's kitchen, a low bricked-floored
room, with large recess for fire, and chimney-corner seats. Poor
little Sally, the most good-natured and much enduring of woman-kind,
was bustling about with the napkin in her hand, from her own oven to
those of the neighbors' cottages, up the yard at the back of the
house. Stumps, her husband, a short easy-going shoe