"Let's go in and see what Mother Bonnet has got for us." I was for hanging back, and so was Bob, who was jealous of the extra notice taken of me; but old Jonas Uggleston took hold of us both by the shoulders and marched us before him as if we were prisoners, and regularly pushed us in at the low door and into the low rustic-looking room, with its floor formed of big rough slabs of slate, and its whitewashed walls hung with all kinds of fishing gear and odds and ends, that looked very much as if they had come from different wrecks, so out of keeping were they with the plain, homely room, smelling strangely of sea-weed with a dash of fish.
"And I thought there'd be something ready to eat," said old Jonas.
"That's right, Big, put some chairs to the table, and come to an anchor all of you." He smiled grimly as he thrust both Bob and me into chairs and then turned to his son.
"Take the big pitcher, boy, and fill it from the cider barrel.

It's in the back place yonder.

Good cider won't hurt boys.

It's only like drinking apples 'stead o' chewing of 'em.

I'm going to dip my hands.
Back directly." He nodded and left the room with his son, leaving Bob and me staring at each other across the table.
"Don't it seem rum," he whispered, "having no table-cloth ?" I said it did, but then the table was beautifully clean, and so were the silver table-spoons, and the silver mug at the end where old Jonas sat.
While, to make the table thoroughly attractive to us hungry boys, who had been walking all the morning, there was a good-sized cold salmon on a big dish; a great piece of cold ham; a large round loaf that looked as if it had been baked in a basin, and a plate of butter and a dish of thick yellow cream.
These substantial things had a good effect upon Bob Chowne, whose face began to look smooth and pleasant, and who showed his satisfaction farther by kicking me under the table, for he was afraid to make any more remarks, because we could hear Jonas Uggleston, in some place at the back, blowing and splashing as if he were washing himself in a bucket; and of this last there was no doubt, for we heard the handle rattle, then a loud splash, as if he had thrown the dirty water out of the window, and the bucket set down and the handle rattling again.
This made Bob kick me again painfully, and he grinned and his eyes seemed to say, "No jug and basin, and no washstand." Just then Bigley came in with a great brown jug of cider, smiling all over his face.
"I say, I am glad father has asked you to stop," he said.