Explore "Bashful Fifteen" by L.T. Meade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The great bell clanged out its hospitable boom for supper. Supper was a great institution at the Castle. It was the meal of the day. A heterogeneous sort of repast, at which every conceivable eatable, every available luxury, graced the board. From tea, coffee, and bread and butter to all sorts of rich and spiced dishes, nothing that the good-humored Irish cook could produce was absent from the squire's supper table.
It was the one meal in the day at which he himself ate heartily. The squire ate enough then to satisfy himself for the greater part of the twenty-four hours; for, with the exception of a frugal breakfast at eight in the morning, which consisted of tea, bread and butter, and two new-laid eggs, he never touched food again until the great evening meal, which was tea, supper, and dinner in one.