At one side of the table sat Mrs.Wragge, watching her husband's eye like an animal waiting to be fed.

At the other side was an empty chair, toward which the captain waved his persuasive hand when Magdalen came in.

"How do you like your room ?" he inquired; "I trust Mrs.Wragge has made herself useful?
You take milk and sugar?
Try the local bread, honor the York butter, test the freshness of a new and neighboring egg.

I offer my little all.

A pauper's meal, my dear girl--seasoned with a gentleman's welcome." "Seasoned with salt, pepper, chives and parsley," murmured Mrs.Wragge, catching instantly at a word in connection with cookery, and harnessing her head to the omelette for the rest of the evening.
"Sit straight at the table!" shouted the captain.