It was meant for a smile, but bore a wonderful resemblance to a declaration of war against the food upon the table.
"Don't be proud, then, lad.

Stop.

Why, you nivver knew me say I wouldn't when I've been at your place." That appeal removed the last objection, and the boys took off their caps, sat down with the wheelwright, and Mrs Hickathrift, according to the custom, waited upon them.
It is unnecessary to state what there was for supper, and how many times Dick and Tom had their plates replenished with--never mind what--and--it does not signify.

Suffice it to say that for the space of half an hour the wheelwright's wife was exceedingly busy; and when at the end of an hour the trio rose from the table, and Hickathrift filled his pipe, both of his visitors seemed as if they had gone through a process of taming.
For though a boy--a hearty boy in his teens--living say anywhere, can, as a rule, eat, in the exception of boys of the old fen-land, where the eastern breezes blow right off the German Ocean, they were troubled with an appetite which was startling, and might have been condemned but for the fact that it resulted in their growing into magnificent specimens of humanity, six feet high not being considered particularly tall.
It was quite late when the boys reached the Toft, to find the squire standing outside smoking his pipe and waiting for them.
"Where have you been, lads ?" he said; and on being told, he uttered a good-humoured grunt, and laying his hand upon Tom's shoulder, "Here," he said, "you'd better stop with Dick to-night.

They won't be uneasy at home ?" "No, sir," said Tom naively; "I told father perhaps I should stay." "Oh, you did, eh!" said the squire.