Mr Springfield was apparently feeling hungry. ‘After all, cousin, it must be hours since dinner and that tea was something or nothing as far as I was concerned. I’m half clammed, I swear it. A hot codlin would be just the thing. It would fill a gap and warm us through, both at the self same time.’ Miss Forster still hesitated, but Cecily had no such qualms. ‘What an excellent suggestion, Mr Springfield,’ she agreed at once. ‘I must say that I’m most partial to a hot roast apple, and I’m sure that no-one will notice if we eat them in the road.’ This was more than sufficient an invitation for Mr Springfield, who immediately set about purchasing four fine examples from the rather ragged old woman who appeared to be in charge of the stall. Whipping them adeptly between his hands - they were apparently very hot - he then distributed them eagerly amongst his chilled, impatient friends. ‘I hope your aunt will not disapprove of the disreputable company you have fallen in with, my lady,’ ventured Mr Forster, attacking his apple with some enthusiasm.
