o school, Mam Widger
throws us out a cup o' tay each, with now and then a newly baked
gentry-cake. Tony, who would like meat or a fry of fish for tea, has
usually to content himself with bread and butter. The children go off
to bed with a biscuit or a small chunk of cheese, and we may eat the
same with pickles, or else fried or boiled fish if there is any in the
house.... Supper, in fact, is the meal of many inventions, including
all sorts of crabs, little lobsters, and such unsaleable fish as
dun-cow [dog-fish], conger, skate or weever, together with
dree-hap'orth, or a pint, of stout and bitter from the Alexandra. Just
before turning in, Tony and myself have a glass of hot grog.

[14] Fried mixed vegetables.

[15] Bread broth with butter, or dripping, and water instead of
milk. A dash of skim milk is sometimes added.

[Sidenote: _DRINK_]

From such a list of our fare, it would seem as if we over-ate ourselves
as consistently as the _en pension_ visitors at the hotels. (Mrs
Widger, who has done a good deal of waiting, frequently tells us how
manfully the visitors endeavour to eat their money's worth at the
_tables d'hote_). Tony's appetite--his habit of pecking at the food
after a meal is over and the way he, and the children too if they have
the chance, mop up pickles and Worcester sauce--is a continual joy to
me. We do not drink much alcohol. On the other hand, the children are
curiously discouraged from drinking cold water. Skim milk, tea, stout,
ale, or even very dilute spirit is considered better for them--a
prejudice which dates probably from the days before a pure water
supply. Since, however, I who am known to possess a contemptible
digestion, have been seen to drink down several glasses of cold water
daily, and to take no hurt, the ban on it has been more or less
removed.

The above-mentioned goodies are distributed, it is true, over a good
many days in the year, and I fancy that my being here drives up the
scale of living somewhat. At all events, we do not go short. Waste on
the one side, mainly arising from small eyes being bigger than small
stomachs, is more than counterbalanced by a wonderful ability to
swallow down gristle, rinds and hard bits without apparent harm.
Granfer, indeed, says that he 'wouldn't gie a penny a pound for tender
meat that don't give 'ee summut to bite at.' The children clamour
always for 'jam zide plaate.' Without that or the promise of it, they
often refus