e. I seated
myself, and amid plaudits accommodated the ample and heavy Rosina upon
my knee.

"Good-bye," called out to me the watery-eyed young man, as behind the
fair Rosina I disappeared from his view. "See you again later on."

"I used to be a plump girl myself before I married," observed Aunt
Gutton. "Plump as butter I was at one time."

"It isn't what one eats," said the maternal Sellars. "I myself don't eat
enough to keep a fly, and my legs--"

"That'll do, Mar," interrupted the filial Sellars, tartly.

"I was only going to say, my dear--"

"We all know what you was going to say, Mar," retorted Miss Sellars.
"We've heard it before, and it isn't interesting."

Mrs. Sellars relapsed into silence.

"'Ard work and plenty of it keeps you thin enough, I notice," remarked
the lank young man, with bitterness. To him I was now introduced, he
being Mr. George Sellars. "Seen 'im before," was his curt greeting.

At supper--referred to by Mrs. Sellars again in the tone of one
remembering a lesson, as a cold col-la-tion, with the accent on the
"tion"--I sat between Miss Sellars and the lean young lady, with Aunt
and Uncle Gutton opposite to us. It was remarked with approval that I
did not appear to be hungry.

"Had too many kisses afore he started," suggested Uncle Gutton, with
his mouth full of cold roast pork and pickles. "Wonderfully nourishing
thing, kisses, eh? Look at mother and me. That's all we live on."

Aunt Gutton sighed, and observed that she had always been a poor feeder.

The watery-eyed young man, observing he had never tasted them
himself--at which sally there was much laughter--said he would not mind
trying a sample if the lean young lady would kindly pass him one.

The lean young lady opined that, not being used to high living, it might
disagree with him.

"Just one," pleaded the watery-eyed young man, "to go with this bit of
cracklin'."

The lean young lady, amid renewed applause, first thoughtfully wiping
her mouth, acceded to his request.

The watery-eyed young man turned it over with the air of a gourmet.

"Not bad," was his verdict. "Reminds me of onions." At this there was
another burst of laughter.

"Now then, ain't Paul goin' to have one?" shouted Uncle Gutton, when the
laughter had subsided.

Amid silence, feeling as wretched as perhaps I have ever felt in my life
before or since, I received one from the gracious Miss Sellars, wet and
sounding.

"Looks better for it already,"