was produced by the appointments of the kitchen, which was disorderly, too, and spoke neglect of the scrubbing-brush. As for the table, it was ill laid and worse supplied. The meal was to consist of the fag-end of a shoulder of mutton, some villainously cooked potatoes (à l’Anglaise) and bread.
“Oh, I can’t eat this rot again!” cried the boy, making a dig with his fork at the scarcely clad piece of bone. “I shall have bread and cheese. Lug the cheese out, Annie!”
“No, you won’t,” replied the elder girl, in a disagreeable voice. “You’ll eat this or go without.”
She had an unpleasing appearance. Her face was very thin, her lips pinched sourly together, her eyes furtive, hungry, malevolent. Her movements were awkward and impatient, and a morbid nervousness kept her constantly starting, with a stealthy look here or there.
“I shall have the cheese if I like!” shouted the boy, a very ill-conditioned youngster, whose face seemed to have been damaged in recent conflict. His clothes were dusty, and his hair stood up like stubble.
“Hold your row, Tom,” said the younger
