s of pastry in curds.]

"You will eat some of this?" said Uncle Lorincz, turning to his
neighbour, as the dish came round.

"I thank you, I am not hungry; and I have a little headache."

But our nephew was as hungry as anybody else, and had not the
slightest headache. The fact was, he was not accustomed to eat till
after he had been pressed a dozen times, and his plate filled
perforce.

For once, however, there was short work with our nephew's customs; for
Uncle Lorincz, believing what he said, sent on the good turos galuska
with a sigh, admitting it was certainly no cure for a headache; and
consequently Sandor was obliged to keep up the farce during the whole
time of dinner, while his eyes were actually starting from his head
with hunger.

"Drink something, at least, if you do not eat--it will do your
headache good," said Uncle Lorincz, taking up the good Eger[5] wine.
But Sandor would never have forgiven himself had he not snatched aside
his glass as Uncle Lorincz was in the act of pouring out the wine.

[Footnote 5: From Eger or Erlau, a town between Pesth and Tokay.]

"Much obliged," said his father, "but he does not drink wine."

"The tartar! he does not!" exclaimed Uncle Lorincz; "well, he is a
rare child--neither eats, drinks, nor smokes! why, he will be a
millionnaire! I am heartily sorry that you have got a wife for him
already; otherwise I should have asked you to wait until my girl is
marriageable."

Meanwhile there was another individual who followed quite a different
course from that of nephew Sandor, and that was little Peterke.

Finding himself locked in, he first only pettishly came out from his
stronghold, waiting for some one to coax him to come to dinner; but,
finding that the door was locked, and that knives and forks were
actually clattering without him, he took it quite to heart, and began
calling to mamma to let him out.

"Never mind him, let him cry," said mamma, who found this little
episode highly interesting. But the kindly Klarika, when she thought
nobody was observing, hastily concealed a turkey's pinion and a large
piece of apple-tart, and ran off with them to the nursery--contenting
herself with this generous revenge for the havoc done to her
playthings. On this the little urchin became quiet.

When supper was over, the mutual compliments were repeated, during
which Sandor took an opportunity of thrusting into his pocket a roll
of bread, which he had not ventured to touch at