She bakes such stunning murphies, we'll have
a penn'orth each for tea. Come along, or they'll all be gone."
Tom's new purse and money burnt in his pocket; he wondered, as they
toddled through the quadrangle and along the street, whether East
would be insulted if he suggested further extravagance, as he had not
sufficient faith in a pennyworth of potatoes. At last he blurted out,--
"I say, East, can't we get something else besides potatoes? I've got
lots of money, you know."
"Bless us, yes; I forgot," said East, "you've only just come. You see
all my tin's been gone this twelve weeks--it hardly ever lasts beyond
the first fortnight; and our allowances were all stopped this morning
for broken windows, so I haven't got a penny. I've got a tick at
Sally's, of course; but then I hate running it high, you see, towards
the end of the half, 'cause one has to shell out for it all directly one
comes back, and that's a bore."
Tom didn't understand much of this talk, but seized on the fact that
East had no money, and was denying himself some little pet luxury in
consequence. "Well, what shall I buy?" said he, "I'm uncommon hungry."
"I say," said East, stopping to look at him and rest his leg, "you're a
trump, Brown. I'll do the same by you next half. Let's have a pound of
sausages then. That's the best grub for tea I know of."
"Very well," said Tom, as pleased as possible; "where do they sell
them?"
"Oh, over here, just opposite.
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