"Sorrow comes somehow more natural to me; but for all that I have got a bright thought, Mrs.Triplet.Listen, all of you.
You see, Jane, they are all at a sumptuous banquet, all the _dramatis personae,_ except the poet." Triplet went on writing, and reading his work out: "Music, sparkling wine, massive plate, rose-water in the hand-glasses, soup, fish--shall I have three sorts of fish?
I will; they are cheap in this market.

Ah! Fortune, you wretch, here at least I am your master, and I'll make you know it--venison," wrote Triplet, with a malicious grin, "game, pickles and provocatives in the center of the table; then up jumps one of the guests, and says he--" "Oh dear, I am so hungry." This was not from the comedy, but from one of the boys.
"And so am I," cried a girl.
"That is an absurd remark, Lysimachus," said Triplet with a suspicious calmness.

"How can a boy be hungry three hours after breakfast ?" "But, father, there was no breakfast for breakfast." "Now I ask you, Mrs.Triplet," appealed the author, "how I am to write comic scenes if you let Lysimachus and Roxalana here put the heavy business in every five minutes ?" "Forgive them; the poor things are hungry." "Then let them be hungry in another room," said the irritated scribe.
"They shan't cling round my pen, and paralyze it, just when it is going to make all our fortunes; but you women," snapped Triplet the Just, "have no consideration for people's feelings.

Send them all to bed; every man Jack of them!" Finding the conversation taking this turn, the brats raised a unanimous howl.
Triplet darted a fierce glance at them.

"Hungry, hungry," cried he; "is that a proper expression to use before a father who is sitting down here, all gayety" (scratching wildly with his pen) "and hilarity" (scratch) "to write a com--com--" he choked a moment; then in a very different voice, all sadness and tenderness, he said: "Where's the youngest--where's Lucy?
As if I didn't know you are hungry." Lucy came to him directly.