Of these he received about
a score in rapid succession, without the smallest discomposure.
'That's all,' said Barnaby.
'More!' cried Grip. 'More!'
But it appearing for a certainty that no more was to be had, he
retreated with his store; and disgorging the morsels one by one from his
pouch, hid them in various corners--taking particular care, however, to
avoid the closet, as being doubtful of the hidden man's propensities and
power of resisting temptation. When he had concluded these arrangements,
he took a turn or two across the room with an elaborate assumption of
having nothing on his mind (but with one eye hard upon his treasure all
the time), and then, and not till then, began to drag it out, piece by
piece, and eat it with the utmost relish.
Barnaby, for his part, having pressed his mother to eat in vain, made a
hearty supper too. Once during the progress of his meal, he wanted more
bread from the closet and rose to get it. She hurriedly interposed to
prevent him, and summoning her utmost fortitude, passed into the recess,
and brought it out herself.
'Mother,' said Barnaby, looking at her steadfastly as she sat down
beside him after doing so; 'is to-day my birthday?'
'To-day!' she answered.
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