"So much so," said he, "so very much so, that before I accept more of
your hospitality, it is as well you should know whom you would
honour--" here I paused and stared down at the ham and eggs. "Sir, I
am a thief!" Here I let fall the knife. "Three nights since, sir," he
continued in the same passionless voice, "I broke into a farmhouse and
stole a loaf and a piece of cheese. I should have stolen more but that
I was interrupted and pursued. I lost the cheese clambering over a
wall, the last of the loaf I finished yesterday morning, since when I
have subsisted on air and an occasional mangel-wurzel--"
"Then surely it is time you ate something more substantial--this ham
seems excellent and--"
"God love you, Sir Oswald--you're a trump!" he exclaimed and sitting
down, fell to upon the food I had set before him.
"It is good ham!" said I.
"Sublime!" he answered, and seeing with what fervour he addressed
himself to the viands, I troubled him with no further speech until,
his plate empty, he leaned back in his chair and vented a sigh of
blissful and utter content.
"For that--" he began haltingly, his voice a little hoarse, "for--your
hospitality--accept the thanks of a starving wretch!"
"And my name is not Oswald!" said I.
"Of course not, but it answered very well with the fellows
outside--nothing like a high-sounding name or title to awe your
British rustic. And now," said he, with an expression half-whimsical,
half-rueful, as he picked up his woebegone hat, "having by your
courtesy eaten and drunk my fill, I will do my best to repay you by
ridding you of my company.
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