But Dicky
declined; said he couldn't undertake it--for a party, and that Mrs.
Portheris must please help herself and never mind him, he would take
anything there was, a little later, with great hospitality. However, she
insisted, and my portion, I know, was a generous one, a slice off the
ankle. Mrs. Portheris begged us to begin; she said it was so cheerless
eating by one's self, and made her feel quite greedy.
"Really," she said, "it is much better than candle--a little difficult
to masticate perhaps, but, if I do say it myself, quite a tolerable
flavour. If I only hadn't used that abominable French polish this
morning. What do _you_ think, Mr. Dod?"
"I think," said Dicky, jumping suddenly to his feet, while my heart
stood still with anticipation, "that if there's enough of that shoe
left, you had better put it on again, for I hear people calling us," and
then, making a trumpet with his hands, Dicky shouted till all the
Roman skeletons sufficiently intact turned to listen. But this time the
answer came back from their descendants, running with a flash of
lanterns.
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