yesterday, and still upon the original dish amid congealed fat; a
spongy half-quartern loaf, that species of baker's bread of which a
great quantity can be consumed with small effect on the appetite; a
shapeless piece of something purchased under the name of butter,
dabbed into a shallow basin; some pickled cabbage in a tea-cup; and,
lastly, a pot of tea, made by adding a teaspoonful or two to the
saturated leaves which had already served at breakfast and mid-day.
This repast was laid on a very dirty cloth. The cups were unmatched
and chipped, the knives were in all stages of decrepitude; the
teapot was of dirty tin, with a damaged spout.

Sidney began to affect cheerfulness. He took little Annie on one of
his knees, and Tom on the other. The mature Amy presided. Hewett ate
the morsel of meat, evidently without thinking about it; he crumbled
a piece of bread, and munched mouthfuls in silence. Of the vapid
liquor called tea he drank cup after cup.

'What's the time?' he asked at length. 'Where's Clara?'

'I daresay she's doin' overtime,' replied his wife. 'She won't be
much longer.'

The man was incapable of remaining in one spot for more than a few
minutes. Now he went to look at the baby; now he stirred the fire;
now he walked across the room aimlessly. He was the embodiment of
worry. As soon as the meal was over, Amy, Annie, and Tom were sent
off to bed. They occupied the second room, together with Clara; Bob
shared the bed of a fellow-workman upstairs. This was great
extravagance, obviously; other people would have made two rooms
sufficient for all, and many such families would have put up with