July 20th, 1835
Bit liked food. It was undeniable - food factored a large part into Bit’s life (This was one of the facts that made James and Bit so convincing at being related). Unfortunately for Tom’s structured, hopefully sane evenings, she didn’t much like sitting down at a properly set dining table to eat that wonderful food with some amount of decent etiquette.
That Bit didn’t like at all.
It seemed as if Bit had a fundamental dislike of any sort of propriety related to the consumption of nourishment. She would use a fork and knife, but any other utensils were completely beyond her. This included salad forks, dessert forks, teaspoons - indeed, any type of spoon. It was just as simple to eat soup straight out of the bowl, wasn’t it? And the concept of napkins was completely out of the girl’s grasp. They generally stayed firmly planted on the table where they started, or, if Tom was lucky, it might make its way to some portion of her lap. Travel to this location generally had to be at least begun by someone beside Bit.
This lack of propriety at the dining table became such an issue that Tom finally instated a rule that unless Bit behaved properly at the table she was not to be permitted to eat.
It could have been seen as a minor slip-up on Tom’s part, but it was far more than that. The results were rather explosive, in fact, and began with Bit shooting straight up from her chair, so exuberantly that it clattered back in a way that made the butler wince.
"What?" Bit's shriek was so uncharacteristically high-pitched that the three other occupants of the room - Tom, the unfortunate butler, and James, who Tom had called in for moral support - were forced to either clap their hands to their ears or suffer a terrible rupturing of their poor, belabored ear drums.
Tom finally pulled his hand away. It hovered in the air, undecided, apparently, if it was comfortable with leaving the ear unprotected as he attempted to placate his unruly and rather loud ward.
"Elizabeth, you do realize this is for your own good, don't you?"
James rolled his eyes. She obviously didn't, or at least wasn't accepting the fact. "Tom, don't be ridiculous. You can't start an effective argument with that well abused line."
Bit hadn't had enough lessons to know entirely what James was saying, but she nodded emphatically anyway, figuring, in general, that James thought things through a little more than Tom, and, anyway, Tom was the one cruelly depriving her of her much-needed nourishment (she was catching up on all those years she'd gotten behind) so surely anyone else was better than James, right? And she couldn't side with the butler - he wasn't saying anything, after
Bit liked food. It was undeniable - food factored a large part into Bit’s life (This was one of the facts that made James and Bit so convincing at being related). Unfortunately for Tom’s structured, hopefully sane evenings, she didn’t much like sitting down at a properly set dining table to eat that wonderful food with some amount of decent etiquette.
That Bit didn’t like at all.
It seemed as if Bit had a fundamental dislike of any sort of propriety related to the consumption of nourishment. She would use a fork and knife, but any other utensils were completely beyond her. This included salad forks, dessert forks, teaspoons - indeed, any type of spoon. It was just as simple to eat soup straight out of the bowl, wasn’t it? And the concept of napkins was completely out of the girl’s grasp. They generally stayed firmly planted on the table where they started, or, if Tom was lucky, it might make its way to some portion of her lap. Travel to this location generally had to be at least begun by someone beside Bit.
This lack of propriety at the dining table became such an issue that Tom finally instated a rule that unless Bit behaved properly at the table she was not to be permitted to eat.
It could have been seen as a minor slip-up on Tom’s part, but it was far more than that. The results were rather explosive, in fact, and began with Bit shooting straight up from her chair, so exuberantly that it clattered back in a way that made the butler wince.
"What?" Bit's shriek was so uncharacteristically high-pitched that the three other occupants of the room - Tom, the unfortunate butler, and James, who Tom had called in for moral support - were forced to either clap their hands to their ears or suffer a terrible rupturing of their poor, belabored ear drums.
Tom finally pulled his hand away. It hovered in the air, undecided, apparently, if it was comfortable with leaving the ear unprotected as he attempted to placate his unruly and rather loud ward.
"Elizabeth, you do realize this is for your own good, don't you?"
James rolled his eyes. She obviously didn't, or at least wasn't accepting the fact. "Tom, don't be ridiculous. You can't start an effective argument with that well abused line."
Bit hadn't had enough lessons to know entirely what James was saying, but she nodded emphatically anyway, figuring, in general, that James thought things through a little more than Tom, and, anyway, Tom was the one cruelly depriving her of her much-needed nourishment (she was catching up on all those years she'd gotten behind) so surely anyone else was better than James, right? And she couldn't side with the butler - he wasn't saying anything, after
