handled knives,
and very mountebanks of two-pronged forks, which seemed to be trying how far
asunder they could possibly stretch their legs, without converting themselves
into double the number of iron toothpicks, it wanted neither damask, silver,
gold, nor china: no, nor any other garniture at all. There it was: and, being
there, nothing else would have done as well.
    The success of that initiative dish: that first experiment of hers in
cookery: was so entire, so unalloyed and perfect, that John Westlock and Tom
agreed she must have been studying the art in secret for a long time past; and
urged her to make a full confession of the fact. They were exceedingly merry
over this jest, and many smart things were said concerning it; but John was not
as fair in his behaviour as might have been expected, for, after luring Tom
Pinch on, for a long time, he suddenly went over to the enemy, and swore to
everything his sister said. However, as Tom observed the same night before going
to bed, it was only in joke, and John had always been famous for being polite to
ladies, even when he was quite a boy. Ruth said, »Oh! indeed!« She didn't say
anything else.
    It is astonishing how much three people may find to talk about. They
scarcely left off talking once. And it was not all lively chat which occupied
them; for, when Tom related how he had seen Mr. Pecksniff's daughters, and what
a change had fallen on the younger, they were very serious.
    John Westlock became quite absorbed in her fortunes; asking many questions
of Tom Pinch about her marriage, inquiring whether her husband was the gentleman
whom Tom had brought to dine with him at Salisbury; in what degree of
relationship they stood towards each other, being different persons; and taking,
in short, the greatest interest in the subject. Tom then went into it at full
length; he told how Martin had gone abroad, and had not been heard of for a long
time; how Dragon Mark had borne him company; how Mr. Pecksniff had got the poor
old doting grandfather into his power; and how he basely sought the hand of Mary
Graham. But, not a word said Tom of what lay hidden in his heart; his heart, so
deep, and true, and full of honour, and yet with so much room for every gentle
and unselfish thought: not a word.
    Tom, Tom! The man in all this world most confident in his sagacity
