I haven't come to my stomach yet; but if I can think of
anything else, I will let you know.

"Is your father going to eat his breakfast with you?"

"Who? pappy? No; he's gone to market, and will get his victuals at the
eating stall. Wouldn't it be good fun to keep a eating stall in a
market?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, never mind whether you do, or not. Hurry up with my victuals."

"Yes; but I'm afraid we haven't got all the things you want; but I will
bring you up what we have," said the girl, who had opened her eyes
widely at the bill of fare ordered by her sickly guest.

"Well, go do it then, and don't stop to talk," said Sybil, shortly.

Rachel went out, and in due time returned with a waiter containing
Sybil's breakfast.

"Why, there an't half--no, not a quarter of the things I told you to
fetch me," said Sybil, turning up her nose at the waiter that Rachel
placed upon the table.

"I have brought you some of everything that we have cooked. I should be
glad if I could bring you all you wish," replied Rachel.

"Then I s'pose I must be half-starved in this poor place. And me so
weakly, too! I'll tell pappy as soon as ever he comes. I want to go
home--I do. We've got as much as ever we can eat at home," grumbled
Sybil, doing her best to act her part, and perhaps overdoing it.

But Rachel was not suspicious. She again apologized for not being able
to fill her guest's order in its utmost extent, and she remained in the
room and waited on Sybil until the breakfast was finished, and then she
took away the service, wondering how little her guest had eaten, after
having ordered such a vast amount of food.

Again Rachel came back to the room, and made everything tidy in each
chamber, and then finally left her guest alone.

Sybil walked about and took up and put down every small object that lay
about her humble apartments, and then looked out of each window upon the
narrow crowded and noisy street below; and finally, she took the volume
of "Celebrated Criminal Trials" that had a terrible attraction for her,
in her present circumstances, and she sat down and read until her
husband's return.

Lyon Berners drove his empty wagon into the stable yard, at noon. He had
sold out all his produce, and pretended to be in great glee at his
success. The landlord congratulated him, and some chance loungers in the
bar-room suggested that, under such circumstances, it would be the right
thing for him to treat the company. L