We were all gathered into a dining hall, there were several long tables, and one raised on a dais where Mr Sturridge sat with Mrs Piggott. Upon the tables all ready and waiting was a bowl filled with some steaming food and also two spoons at each place, one empty, the other holding a small quantity of something brownish-grey. I saw the head cooks then, Mr and Mrs Groom, shortish and pale, very similar-looking as if they were brother and sister, not man and wife. But people often grow to look like one another, I had seen that before. They were of a shape, the Groom couple, hard to tell exactly one from the other, both had breasts, both had hips, both had big hands, and were dressed in the same white clothing that marked their employ.

No one sat down, they all stood before the bowls and spoons looking at them longingly. Another bell was rung and then everyone began to chant from memory a strange little poem, or grace, in low voices, some closed their eyes, some put their hands together in prayer,

In this house

Where we live

In the love

Which we give

In the time

Where are hid

All the secrets

Of our blood.

All our organs

And our bones

All our lungs

And liver

And blood,

Thick and thinner

Thank o thank

For this dinner.

Once more a bell was rung, and now all hurriedly went to their places and very carefully picked up their empty spoons, and all ate the soup. It was salty and thick and far better than the food at the orphanage which had small chips of bone in it and once a rusted nail. But no one touched the other, larger spoons, which were serving spoons. As soon as the bowls were empty they were taken away by other servants in coarse grey outfits but no one left their places, each sat only with the filled spoon before him, but not touching it. Then another bell was rung and another grace chanted,

Our piping and our plumbing

Our right and our wronging

Take a spoonful of comfort

Sugar sweet and crunchful

To last us all the long nightfall.

Then they began, in so many different ways, to eat from the other spoon. All was very quiet and concentrated as this business was done, there were some noises of crunching, but very small sounds. Some opened their mouths as wide as they were able and pushed the whole spoon in, others hunched over their spoon, sniffing and then carefully lapping it up with their tongues, others went at it spoon-tip first and slowly and methodically worked their way over the bowl. I lifted my spoon, I could not exactly tell what it held. It was rather grey, something thick and grimy, and had a strong smell that I couldn’t quite name, but was not far from the great slap of stench I smelt when I arrived.