Karl Krinken, His Christmas Stocking

“‘It is astonishing,’ said he, as he set it down, ’what a heavy thing Indian meal is!’

“‘Why Roswald!’ said Sue;—‘did you get all that with two cents?’

“‘No,’ said Roswald; ‘the basket I borrowed. It is my mother’s.’

“‘But have you got it full?’ said Sue.

“‘Pretty full,’ said Roswald, complacently.

“‘I never thought two cents would buy so much!’ said Sue.

“‘Didn’t you?’ said Roswald. ‘Ah, you’re not much of a market-woman yet, Sue. My arm is tired.’

“‘I’m sorry!’ said Sue. ‘But I am so glad you have got it for me.’

“‘So am I. Now is that porridge ready?’

“‘Ready this great while,’ said the little housekeeper, carefully dishing it out. ‘It’s been only waiting for you.’

Roswald looked at her with a curious, gentle, sorrowful expression, which was as becoming as it was rare in a boy of his years.

“‘Are you hungry, Sue?’

“‘Yes,’ said Sue, looking up from her dish with a face that spoke her perfectly satisfied with the dinner and the company. ‘Aren’t you?’

“‘Why, I ought to be. The air is sharp enough to give one an appetite. Sue–’

“‘What?’

“‘Do you eat your porridge alone?’

“‘Not to-day,’ said Sue, smiling, while an arch look came across her gentle eye.

“‘Does that mean that you are going to eat me with it? I shall beg leave to interpose a stay of proceedings upon that.’

“And sitting down, with an air of determination, he drew the porridge dish quite to his end of the chest-table, and looked at Sue as much as to say, ‘You don’t touch it.’

“‘What does that mean? Aren’t you going to let me have any?’ said Sue, laughing.

“‘No.’

“‘Why not?’

“‘I shall want all the porridge myself. You’ll have to take something else, Sue!’

“‘But I haven’t got anything else,’ said Sue, looking puzzled and amused.

“‘Well, if you give me my dinner, it’s fair I should give you yours,’ said Roswald; and rising, he brought his market-basket to the side of the table, and sat down again.

“‘It’s a pity I can’t serve things in their right order,’ he said, as he pulled out a quantity of apples from one end of the basket,—‘but you see the dinner has gone in here head foremost. I never saw anything so troublesome to pack. There’s a loaf of bread, now, that has no business to show itself so forward in the world; but here it comes– Sue, you’ll want a knife and fork.’

“And he set a deep, longish dish, with a cover, on the table, and then a flat round dish with a cover. Sue looked stupefied. Roswald glanced at her.

“‘Your appetite hasn’t gone, Sue, has it?’

“But she got up and came round to him, and put her face in her two hands down on his shoulder, and cried very hard indeed.

“‘Why, Sue!’ said Roswald, gently,—‘I never expected to see you cry for your dinner.’

“But Sue’s tears didn’t stop.

“‘I’ll put all the things back in the basket if you say so,’ said Roswald, smiling.

“‘I don’t say any such thing,’ said Sue, lifting up her tearful face and kissing his cheek; and then she went round to her seat and sat down with her head in her hands. Roswald, in his turn, got up and went to her, and took hold of her hands.

“‘Come, Sue,—what’s the matter? that isn’t fair. Look here, my porridge is growing cold.’

“And Sue laughed and cried together.

“‘Dear Roswald! what made you do so?’

“‘Do how?’

“‘Why,—do so. You shouldn’t. It was too good of you.’

“Roswald gave a merry little bit of a laugh, and began to take off the covers and put them on the counter.

“‘Come, Sue,—look up; I want my porridge, and I am waiting for you. Where shall I get a knife and fork?—in the pantry in the back room?’

“Sue jumped up, wiping away her tears, and run for the knife and fork; and from that time, throughout the rest of the meal, her face was a constant region of smiles.

“‘A roast chicken!—Oh, Roswald!—How mother will like a piece of that! How good it smells!’

“‘She’s had her dinner,’ said Roswald, who was carving: ‘you must take a piece of it first. I ought in conscience to have had a separate dish for the potatoes, but my market-basket was resolved not to take it. Some salt, Sue?’

“Sue ran for another knife and fork, and then began upon her piece of chicken; and Roswald helped himself out of his dish and eat, glancing over now and then at her.

“‘You can’t think how good it is, Roswald, after eating porridge so long,’ said Sue, with a perfectly new colour of pleasure in her face.

“‘This is capital porridge!’ said Roswald. ‘I’ll trouble you for a piece of bread, Sue.’

“‘Why, Roswald!—are you eating nothing but porridge?’

“‘Yes, and I tell you I should like a piece of bread with it.’

“‘Ah, do take something else!’ said Sue, giving him the bread. ‘The porridge will keep till another time.’

“‘I don’t mean it shall, much of it,’ said Roswald. ‘It’s the best dinner I’ve had in a great while.’