Brutus gluttonously watered at the mouth; and the tongue of
Cassius, protruding in unutterable expectation, smoked again between his
enormous jaws.
The admiral helped himself liberally from the dish; sent Magdalen to the
side-table to get him some bread; and, when he thought her eye was off
him, furtively tumbled the whole contents of his plate into Brutus's
mouth. Cassius whined faintly as his fortunate comrade swallowed the
savory mess at a gulp. "Hush! you fool," whispered the admiral. "Your
turn next!"
Magdalen presented the second dish. Once more the old gentleman helped
himself largely--once more he sent her away to the side-table--once
more he tumbled the entire contents of the plate down the dog's throat,
selecting Cassius this time, as became a considerate master and an
impartial man. When the next course followed--consisting of a plain
pudding and an unwholesome "cream"--Magdalen's suspicion of the function
of the dogs at the dinner-table was confirmed. While the master took the
simple pudding, the dogs swallowed the elaborate cream. The admiral was
plainly afraid of offending his cook on the one hand, and of offending
his digestion on the other--and Brutus and Cassius were the two trained
accomplices who regularly helped him every day off the horns of his
dilemma.
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