Australian Tales - Setis

The poor little tailor certainly looked perplexed; the dread of his wife's
frown and the fear of offending Mr. Grubb, added to the prospect of a
short meal, made him look as dim as a rusty goose.
“Don't stir, Tiddle — don't stir,” said his friend Grubb, putting his head
in at the doorway, “excuse my intrusion, I am not coming in. How are
you, Mrs. Tiddle, I hope the baby's better. Don't move, Tiddle, I've
merely called to give you the address of another customer, and I'll wait in
the shop till you've done dinner. I'll sit and look at your pattern books.”
“Hem — a — won't you pick a bit with us?” asked Mr. Tiddle, in
faltering accents, and with a timid glance at his spouse, who was looking
knives and forks at him.
“No thank you, no — a — I don't care much about dinner to-day. There
is something the matter with me, I ate a hearty supper last night, perhaps
that's it. Go on with your dinner, friends, I'll wait till you are done.”
“We've just got a little rabbit, which a friend sent us as a rare treat,”
remarked Mr. Tiddle, in an apologetic tone. “It's a tiny little thing,
”
“Rabbit, did you say? well, that is a rarity in this country. I haven't
tasted rabbit since I left home, and it used to be a favourite dish of mine;
I think I will be tempted to pick a bone with you after all,” said Mr.
Grubb, walking in and putting his hat and stick in a corner. “It smells
nice. I see you know how to cook a rabbit, Mrs. Tiddle.”
“Ta — ta — take a chair, Mr. Grubb,” said the tailor, trembling from
head to foot, “Becky, will you tell Mary to bring another hot plate?”
Mrs. Tiddle called “Mary” in such a savage key that her husband
turned pale, his appetite forsook him, and he mentally wished he were on
Shark Island, dining off raw cockles. He eased off some of his feeling in
a quiet sigh, then said to his second boy, “Say grace, Bobby; put your
knife down, sir.” Bobby said grace, then his father took up the carving
tools, and asked Mr. Grubb what part he preferred.
“Ladies first, ladies first, always, sir,” said the guest, with a jocose
smile at Mrs. Tiddle, who looked as sour as a green lemon.
“I like to serve visitors first,” said Mr. Tiddle, helping his guest to a
tolerably large portion of rabbit, for the meek little man had determined
to dine off potatoes and salt, in order to save his wife and children from
short allowance.
Mrs. Tiddle coughed sharply, but her unhappy husband did not look
up. He knew it was not a bronchial affection, for it was not the first time
that he had heard that telegraphic sound. He knew very well that her
cough meant to say “why did you give old Grubb such a big bit of
rabbit?” But he was a conscientious tailor and a thorough man, though he
was afraid of his wife's frown. He could not bear to ask any one to his
table and act niggardly; in fact his heart was much larger than his means,
for he would gladly have given everybody in the land a dinner every day.