The walk had made them hungry, Angel in particular, who was now
an outdoor man, accustomed to the profuse dapes inemptae of the
dairyman's somewhat coarsely-laden table. But neither of the old
people had arrived, and it was not till the sons were almost tired of
waiting that their parents entered. The self-denying pair had been
occupied in coaxing the appetites of some of their sick parishioners,
whom they, somewhat inconsistently, tried to keep imprisoned in the
flesh, their own appetites being quite forgotten.
The family sat down to table, and a frugal meal of cold viands
was deposited before them. Angel looked round for Mrs Crick's
black-puddings, which he had directed to be nicely grilled as they
did them at the dairy, and of which he wished his father and mother
to appreciate the marvellous herbal savours as highly as he did
himself. "Ah! you are looking for the black-puddings, my dear boy," observed
Clare's mother. "But I am sure you will not mind doing without them
as I am sure your father and I shall not, when you know the reason.
I suggested to him that we should take Mrs Crick's kind present to
the children of the man who can earn nothing just now because of his
attacks of delirium tremens; and he agreed that it would be a great
pleasure to them; so we did."
"Of course," said Angel cheerfully, looking round for the mead.
"I found the mead so extremely alcoholic," continued his mother,
"that it was quite unfit for use as a beverage, but as valuable
as rum or brandy in an emergency; so I have put it in my
medicine-closet." "We never drink spirits at this table, on principle," added his
father. "But what shall I tell the dairyman's wife?" said Angel.
"The truth, of course," said his father.
"I rather wanted to say we enjoyed the mead and the black-puddings
very much. She is a kind, jolly sort of body, and is sure to ask me
directly I return."
"You cannot, if we did not," Mr Clare answered lucidly.
"Ah--no; though that mead was a drop of pretty tipple."
"A what?" said Cuthbert and Felix both.
"Oh--'tis an expression they use down at Talbothays," replied Angel,
blushing. He felt that his parents were right in their practice if
wrong in their want of sentiment, and said no more.
XXVI
It was not till the evening, after family prayers, that Angel found
opportunity of broaching to his father one or two subjects near his
heart. He had strung himself up to the purpose while kneeling behind
his brothers on the carpet, studying the little nails in the heels of
their walking boots. When the service was over they went out of the
room with their mother, and Mr Clare and himself were left alone.