The Mother's Coming

There were no plates or bowls, just little hollow places in the heavy wooden table near the edge. Marie ladle of soup, giving each a wooden spoon from a queer rack in the middle. All stood round eating out of their little troughs, with an ebb, and a rough dog close by to receive any crust that might be left. Our little arrangement was soon made, and we left them all smiling and nodding as if the few franks we were to pay would be a fortune to them.