There followed the setting of the table, and then a
long, aching time of hunger when the food was in sight, but one could not
eat until Daddy Dan had done this, and Munner had done that. Also, when one
did eat, half the taste was taken from things by the necessity of various
complicated evolutions of knife and fork. Instance the absurdity of taking
the fork under the thumb with the forefinger pressing along the back of the
wobbly instrument, when any one could see that the proper, natural way of
using a fork was to grasp it daggerwise and drive it firmly through that
skidding piece of meat. Not only this, but a cup must be held in one hand,
and bread must be broken into little pieces before putting butter on it.
Above all, no matter how terribly hard one tried, there was sure to be a
mistake, and then a: "Now, Joan, don't do that. This is the way--"
But how different everything was in this delightful house of Daddy Dan!
In an incredibly short time three torches flared about them and filled the
air with scents of freshness and the outdoors-scents that went tingling up
the nose and filled one with immense possibilities of eating.
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