It was not a child's room, but a grown-up person's room, with gloomy old pictures on the walls and heavy old oak chairs.

A table in the center was set with a good substantial breakfast.
But she had always had a very small appetite, and she looked with something more than indifference at the first plate Martha set before her.
"I don't want it," she said.
"Tha' doesn't want thy porridge!" Martha exclaimed incredulously.
"No." "Tha' doesn't know how good it is.

Put a bit o' treacle on it or a bit o' sugar." "I don't want it," repeated Mary.
"Eh!" said Martha.

"I can't abide to see good victuals go to waste.

If our children was at this table they'd clean it bare in five minutes." "Why ?" said Mary coldly.
"Why!" echoed Martha.