But it did not hurt
him. On the contrary. I thought he seemed the fresher for it. 'What
have we got here?' he said, putting a fork into my dish. 'Not
chops?'
"'Chops.' I said.
"'Lord bless my soul,' he exclaimed, 'I didn't know they were
chops. Why, a chop's the very thing to take off the bad effect of
that beer. Ain't it lucky?'
"So he took a chop by the bone in one hand and a potato in the
other, and ate away with a very good appetite to my extreme
satisfaction. He afterwards took another chop and another potato,
and after that another chop and another potato. When we had done he
brought me a pudding, and having set it before me seemed to
ruminate, and to be absent in his mind for some moments.
"'How's the pie?' he said, rousing himself.
"'It's a pudding,' I made answer.
"'Pudding,' he exclaimed, 'why, bless me, so it is. What?' looking
nearer at it, 'you don't mean to say it's a batter pudding!'
"'Yes, it is indeed.'
"'Why, a batter pudding,' he said, taking up a tablespoon, 'is my
favourite pudding! Aint it lucky? Come on, pitch in, and let's see
who'll get most.'
"The waiter certainly got most. He entreated me more than once to
come in and win, but what with his tablespoon to my teaspoon, his
dispatch to my dispatch, and his appetite to my appetite I was left
far behind at the first mouthful, and had no chance with him.
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