watered. “Do you think he’ll eat it all? Every bit?” he said wistfully.
Aunt Mabel came out of the dining room with an empty tray and disappeared down to the kitchen. When she reappeared , ten minutes later, she was carrying the pudding—crusty apple pie with a jug of wrinkled, yellow cream. She smiled cheerfully at the children before she went into the dining room but when she came out again she didn’t look cheerful at all. Her face was stiff and anxious. On the tray was the lovely, crisp chicken. It was barely touched.
Ben whispered, “Golly—did you see? There’ll be lots left for us!” He smacked his lips with a juicy noise and rubbed his stomach.
“Don’t be silly,” Mary said sharply. “If he hasn’t eaten the chicken—it means he doesn’t like it. And if he doesn’t like the food, he won’t stay.”
John said, “Perhaps he doesn’t like first courses. Perhaps he only likes pudding. And it’s a lovely apple pie.”
They watched anxiously while Aunt Mabel took in the coffee and brought out the remains of the pudding. He had hardly eaten anything—just the smallest hole had been made in the side of the sugar-dusted crust. Aunt Mabel didn’t lookup at the children. She stumped straight down to the kitchen.
“Perhaps he wasn’t hungry. Or perhaps he’s a vegetarian,” John suggested hopefully.
“Vegetarians eat apple pie,” Mary said.
They were silent for a minute. Then Ben said, “He’ll have to pay for it anyway, won’t he?”
“I don’t know.” There was a little frown on Mary’s forehead . She was thinking of how hard Aunt Mabel had worked to make the house look nice and cook a good lunch. And of how much the chicken and the cream had cost. Everything cost a lot—even gas, for cooking. The Gas Bill had arrived at breakfast time and Aunt Mabel had sighed when she saw it.
Then the visitor came out into the hall. He was wiping his mouth with his handkerchief and looking round him in a lost sort of way.
John whispered, “Perhaps he wants to go to the bathroom.”
Mary stood up. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to say but she knew she was going to say something and it made her feel shaky and queer. She went a little way down the stairs and said in a loud voice, “Do you want anything?” The man looked up, startled, and she went on quickly, “I’m afraid you didn’t eat much of your nice lunch. I hope it was because you just weren’t hungry, not because you didn’t like it.”
The man didn’t answer. He simply stared at Mary with his pale eyes. Although he had eaten so little, he hadn’t been very tidy about it: there were food stains on his waistcoat and on his tie. Mary felt dreadfully nervous but she took a deep breath and went on, “We hope you’ll like our boarding house and stay here for a long time because Aunt Mabel needs lots of money to pay the Gas Bill and things like that.”
“Good Heavens,” the visitor said. “Good Heavens.” He looked quite astonished and rather angry. He glared at Aunt Mabel who had come into the hall while Mary had been talking . She gave him a stiff, apologetic smile, marched to the foot of the stairs and said in an icy voice, “Mary—all of you—go down to the kitchen this minute.”
They went, in silence. Aunt Mabel followed them. When she had closed the kitchen door she said, “Mary, you are a naughty, impertinent girl. Please remember in future that you are not to speak to my guests or bother them in any way. This gentleman is an important man in the City—he has come down here to have a rest, not to be badgered by rude children.” She was very white and shaking.
Ben said, “He doesn’t look like an important man. He looks just like a rabbit .” And he giggled suddenly, his hand across his mouth.
“He looks like your bread and butter,” Aunt Mabel said. “Don’t you forget it.” And she went out and shut the door.
No one spoke for a minute. Mary was staring hard at the floor, the blood
Aunt Mabel came out of the dining room with an empty tray and disappeared down to the kitchen. When she reappeared , ten minutes later, she was carrying the pudding—crusty apple pie with a jug of wrinkled, yellow cream. She smiled cheerfully at the children before she went into the dining room but when she came out again she didn’t look cheerful at all. Her face was stiff and anxious. On the tray was the lovely, crisp chicken. It was barely touched.
Ben whispered, “Golly—did you see? There’ll be lots left for us!” He smacked his lips with a juicy noise and rubbed his stomach.
“Don’t be silly,” Mary said sharply. “If he hasn’t eaten the chicken—it means he doesn’t like it. And if he doesn’t like the food, he won’t stay.”
John said, “Perhaps he doesn’t like first courses. Perhaps he only likes pudding. And it’s a lovely apple pie.”
They watched anxiously while Aunt Mabel took in the coffee and brought out the remains of the pudding. He had hardly eaten anything—just the smallest hole had been made in the side of the sugar-dusted crust. Aunt Mabel didn’t lookup at the children. She stumped straight down to the kitchen.
“Perhaps he wasn’t hungry. Or perhaps he’s a vegetarian,” John suggested hopefully.
“Vegetarians eat apple pie,” Mary said.
They were silent for a minute. Then Ben said, “He’ll have to pay for it anyway, won’t he?”
“I don’t know.” There was a little frown on Mary’s forehead . She was thinking of how hard Aunt Mabel had worked to make the house look nice and cook a good lunch. And of how much the chicken and the cream had cost. Everything cost a lot—even gas, for cooking. The Gas Bill had arrived at breakfast time and Aunt Mabel had sighed when she saw it.
Then the visitor came out into the hall. He was wiping his mouth with his handkerchief and looking round him in a lost sort of way.
John whispered, “Perhaps he wants to go to the bathroom.”
Mary stood up. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to say but she knew she was going to say something and it made her feel shaky and queer. She went a little way down the stairs and said in a loud voice, “Do you want anything?” The man looked up, startled, and she went on quickly, “I’m afraid you didn’t eat much of your nice lunch. I hope it was because you just weren’t hungry, not because you didn’t like it.”
The man didn’t answer. He simply stared at Mary with his pale eyes. Although he had eaten so little, he hadn’t been very tidy about it: there were food stains on his waistcoat and on his tie. Mary felt dreadfully nervous but she took a deep breath and went on, “We hope you’ll like our boarding house and stay here for a long time because Aunt Mabel needs lots of money to pay the Gas Bill and things like that.”
“Good Heavens,” the visitor said. “Good Heavens.” He looked quite astonished and rather angry. He glared at Aunt Mabel who had come into the hall while Mary had been talking . She gave him a stiff, apologetic smile, marched to the foot of the stairs and said in an icy voice, “Mary—all of you—go down to the kitchen this minute.”
They went, in silence. Aunt Mabel followed them. When she had closed the kitchen door she said, “Mary, you are a naughty, impertinent girl. Please remember in future that you are not to speak to my guests or bother them in any way. This gentleman is an important man in the City—he has come down here to have a rest, not to be badgered by rude children.” She was very white and shaking.
Ben said, “He doesn’t look like an important man. He looks just like a rabbit .” And he giggled suddenly, his hand across his mouth.
“He looks like your bread and butter,” Aunt Mabel said. “Don’t you forget it.” And she went out and shut the door.
No one spoke for a minute. Mary was staring hard at the floor, the blood
Similar Books
