"No, Christie, not sick, but quite, quite down in the mouth." She scanned him thirty seconds. "What had ye till your dinner?" "I forget." "A choep, likely?" "I think it was." "Or maybe it was a steak?" "I dare say it was a steak." "Taste my girdle cake, that I've brought for ye." She gave him a piece; he ate it rapidly, and looked gratefully at her.