'I'll call out as soon as the chops are ready.
Fanny's below, seeing to the pudding.' 'Gracious mercy!' says Goldmore to me, quite confidentially, 'how could he ask us?
I really had no idea of this--this utter destitution.' 'Dinner, dinner!' roars out Gray, from the diningroom, whence issued a great smoking and frying; and entering that apartment we find Mrs.Gray ready to receive us, and looking perfectly like a Princess who, by some accident, had a bowl of potatoes in her hand, which vegetables she placed on the table.

Her husband 'was meanwhile cooking mutton-chops on a gridiron over the fire.
Fanny has made the roly-poly pudding,' says he; the chops are my part.
Here's a fine one; try this, Goldmore.' And he popped a fizzing cutlet on that gentleman's plate.

What words, what notes of exclamation can describe the nabob's astonishment?
The tablecloth was a very old one, darned in a score places.

There was mustard in a teacup, a silver fork for Goldmore--all ours were iron.
'I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth,' says Gray, gravely.
'That fork is the only one we have.

Fanny has it generally.' 'Raymond!'-- cries Mrs.Gray, with an imploring face.