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The family sat down to table, and a frugal meal of cold viands was deposited before them. Angel looked round for Mrs Crick's black-puddings, which he had directed to be nicely grilled, as they did them at the dairy, and of which he wished his father and mother to appreciate the marvellous herbal savours as highly as he did himself. ¡¡¡¡`Ah! you are looking for the black-puddings, my dear boy,' observed Clare's mother. `But I am sure you will not mind doing without them, as I am sure your father and I shall not, when you know the reason. I suggested to him that we should take Mrs Crick's kind present to the children of the man who can earn nothing just now because of his attacks of delirium tremens; and lie agreed that it would be a great pleasure to them; so we did.' ¡¡¡¡`Of course,' said Angel cheerfully, looking round for the mead. ¡¡¡¡`I found the mead so extremely alcoholic,' continued his mother, `that it was quite unfit for use as a beverage, but as valuable as rum or brandy in an emergency; so I have put it in my medicine-closet.' ¡¡¡¡`We never drink spirits at this table, on principle,' added his father. ¡¡¡¡`But what shall I tell the dairyman's wife?' said Angel. ¡¡¡¡`The truth, of course,' said his father. ¡¡¡¡`I rather wanted to say we enjoyed the mead and the blackpuddings very much. She is a kind, jolly sort of body, and is sure to ask me directly I return.' ¡¡¡¡`You cannot, if we did not,' Mr Clare answered lucidly. ¡¡¡¡`AH - no; though that mead was a drop of pretty tipple.' ¡¡¡¡`A what?' said Cuthbert and Felix both.