Australian Tales - Setis

window, and being furnished with buckets of water by some of the
excited neighbours, he poured a copious supply down the blazing flue,
and soon put out the fire; but at the same time he put the finishing touch
to Mr. Phiggs's Indian breakfast by smothering everything with soot,
making all the dainty dishes on the hobs as black as an Indian's woolly
head, and turning the kitchen into a mimic Black Sea.
Mr. Phiggs's guests were all old friends, and jovial ones too; and that
they were not disposed to desert a brother in his distress was evident
from their all flocking into the kitchen to see their unlucky host, and to
cheer him up with “compliments of the season.” There he sat, covered
with soot, egg sauce, and melted butter, nursing his basted foot, and
surrounded by a confused collection of cooking tools and little islands of
soot, in a sea of grimy water. But despite his sores and sorrows he could
not but join in the uproarious bursts of laughter, which nearly split the
shingles above his head, as the cause of his mishaps was explained to the
visitors by his waggish little wife, whose eyes were overflowing with
fun.
A breakfast was extemporised, to which the guests soon afterwards sat
down, headed by Mr. Phiggs, who had cleansed himself, and applied a
chalk plaster to his sore foot (which, by the way, is an excellent remedy
for scalds or burns), and many were the jokes passed upon his morning's
exploits by his fun-loving friends, at which none laughed more heartily
than did the good-humoured host himself.
After breakfast Mr. Phiggs put on his hat and went out in search of
Samson and Sally, to offer the amende honorable, while Jane ran for
Mrs. Scrubb, the charwoman, and set her to work to clear the kitchen.
Samson was fishing on the wharf, and looking as sullen as a boy in a
dunce's cap; but Mr. Phiggs's frank apology soon restored him to good
humour, and he returned to the house laughing immoderately. Sally was
sitting in her mother's parlour, crying, and vowing she would never enter
old Phiggs's kitchen again, when her humbled master entered. His kind,
coaxing words, and peace offering of a new shawl for a Christmas-box,
very soon altered her views, and half-an-hour afterwards Sally was
stuffing a goose at her damaged table, with her face all over broad grins,
while old Mrs. Scrubb was clearing away the wreck like an able seaman.
Mr. Phiggs's dogs, Pincher and Snap, had a dainty Christmas breakfast.
They evidently appreciated the pillaued chicken, although it was half
raw: they enjoyed the cream potatoes too, but declined to eat the sausage
cakes, possibly because Samson had accidentally put a double quantity
of cayenne into them.
And Mr. Phiggs's guests had a dainty Christmas dinner, although it was
an hour later than usual. Heartily they enjoyed their good cheer and each
other's cheerful society. They were merry and wise, so of course they
spent a happy Christmas; such a happy Christmas as I most cordially