She called Pinkey, and ran to the window in surprise.
It was Chook, blushing as nearly as his face would permit, and carrying two plates wrapped in a towel.

He pushed through to the kitchen with the remark "I'll just 'ot this up agin on the stove." "But wot is it ?" cried Pinkey, in astonishment.
Chook removed the upper plate, and showed a dish of sheep's brains, fried with eggs and breadcrumbs--a thing to make the mouth water.
"Mother sent these; she thought yer might like somethin' tasty fer yer breakfast," he muttered gruffly, in fear of ridicule.
Pinkey tried to laugh, but the tears welled into her eyes.
"Oh, Sarah will be pleased!" she cried.
"No, she won't," said Chook, grimly.

"Wot yer can't eat goes back fer the fowls." While Mrs Partridge was dressing, they quarrelled fiercely, because Chook swore she must eat the lot.

Sarah ended the dispute by eating half, but Chook watched jealously till Pinkey declared she could eat no more.
The next Sunday it was a plate of fish fried in the Jewish fashion--a revelation to Pinkey after the rancid fat of the fish shop--then a prime cut off the roast for dinner, or the breast and wing of a fowl; and he made Pinkey eat it in his presence, so that he could take the plates home to wash.

One Sunday he was so late that Mrs Partridge fell back on pig's cheek; but he arrived, with a suspicious swelling under his eye.