Have some lobster ?" I said.
"No, thanks," he replied.
Evidently my good things were not in favour; why, I could not say.
Nobody seemed to be taking anything, and Crow was most conspicuously _smelling_ my lobster.
The meal dragged on heavily, with more talk than eating.

Every dish came in for its share of criticism; the eel-pie remained uncut, the lobster had lost one claw, but more than half the contents of that was left on Abel's plate.

My penny buns all vanished, that was one ray of comfort.
"Ring the bell for more buns," said Doubleday, as if he was presiding at his own table.
What was I to do?
There were no more, and it was hardly likely Mrs Nash would go for more.

Before I could make up my mind, Whipcord had rung a loud peal on the bell, and Mrs Nash in due time appeared.
"More buns, and look sharp, old woman," said Doubleday.
"I'll old woman you if I've much of your imperence, my young dandy!" was the somewhat startling rejoinder.

"I'll bundle the pack of you out of the house, that I will, if you can't keep a civil tongue in your heads." "I say, Batchelor," said Doubleday, laughing, "your aunt has got a temper, I fancy.