aid he had not
played lately. And then no one said anything till dinner came in. We had
all washed our faces and hands and brushed our hair before he came in,
and we all looked very nice, especially Oswald, who had had his hair
cut that very morning. When Eliza had brought in the rabbit and gone
out again, we looked at each other in silent despair, like in books.
It seemed as if it were going to be just a dull dinner like the one the
poor Indian had had the night before; only, of course, the things to
eat would be nicer. Dicky kicked Oswald under the table to make him say
something--and he had his new boots on, too!--but Oswald did not kick
back; then the Uncle asked--

'Do you carve, sir, or shall I?'

Suddenly Alice said--

'Would you like grown-up dinner, Uncle, or play-dinner?'

He did not hesitate a moment, but said, 'Play-dinner, by all means.
Eh!--what?' and then we knew it was all right.

So we at once showed the Uncle how to be a dauntless hunter. The rabbit
was the deer we had slain in the green forest with our trusty yew bows,
and we toasted the joints of it, when the Uncle had carved it, on bits
of firewood sharpened to a point. The Uncle's piece got a little burnt,
but he said it was delicious, and he said game was always nicer when you
had killed it yourself. When Eliza had taken away the rabbit bones and
brought in the pudding, we waited till she had gone out and shut the
door, and then we put the dish down on the floor and slew the pudding in
the dish in the good old-fashioned way. It was a wild boar at bay, and
very hard indeed to kill, even with forks. The Uncle was very fierce
indeed with the pudding, and jumped and howled when he speared it, but
when it came to his turn to be helped, he said, 'No, thank you; think of
my liver. Eh!--what?'

But he had some almonds and raisins--when we had climbed to the top of
the chest of drawers to pluck them from the boughs of the great trees;
and he had a fig from the cargo that the rich merchants brought in their
ship--the long drawer was the ship--and the rest of us had the sweets
and the coconut. It was a very glorious and beautiful feast, and when it
was over we said we hoped it was better than the dinner last night. And
he said:

'I never enjoyed a dinner more.' He was too polite to say what he really
thought about Father's dinner. And we saw that though he might be poor,
he was a true gentleman.

He smoked a cigar while we finished up what there wa