dinner.

Aunt Zsuzsi now opened the door with great solemnity, to release the
little delinquent, whom they found dancing about with greasy cheeks,
and holding up in triumph the remains of the turkey's leg.

"Oh, you rascal!" exclaimed mamma, catching hold of him, and wiping
his cheeks; "go directly and kiss your aunt's hand, and beg her pardon
for being so rude."

Peterke slid over, drawing his mouth and nose to one side, as if he
expected that the hand he was ordered to kiss was preparing to give
him a box in the ear; and it was only on being convinced of the
contrary that he resumed his former confidence, and ventured to ask
for another piece of apple-tart, on receiving which he had the
complaisance to show the company, by way of a return, how a large
piece of pastry might be crammed into two cheeks.

Who was enduring greater torment than our nephew Sandor all this time?
Hungry as a wolf, with only a small white roll in his pocket--and how
to eat it! Wherever he went, he was sure to be seen; his only resource
was to wait till everybody went to bed, and then eat it in the dark;
but the two gentlemen, meanwhile, got so deeply engaged in
conversation, that there was no saying when it might end.

At last he summoned up courage to say he would go out a little, and
walk in the garden.

"In the garden!" repeated Uncle Lorincz; "why, it is quite dark, and
the mud is very deep."

"I will sit upon a bench."

"That will be a fine walk--ha, ha, ha!"

"Perhaps the air would do my head good."

"Well, do as you like, my boy; you are at home here."

Sandor, finding himself at liberty, descended to the garden in great
delight. Just below the back window of Uncle Lorincz's apartment,
which looked out upon the garden, stood a winter pear. Uncle Lorincz
thought he heard this tree shaking, and going to the window, he could
distinguish our nephew pulling the unripe pears, and cramming them
into his mouth.

"Well, he is a strange youth!" thought Uncle Lorincz, as he returned
to his seat.

Before retiring for the night, the guests took leave of their kind
hosts--declaring that they must set out at break of day, and would not
disturb them--after which they were conducted to their apartments,
and soon lay buried in the great down feather-beds and snow-white
pillows, with their neat laced and ribboned covers. The coachman had
been desired to harness the horses at four o'clock, and not to awake
anybody; but when our provident