1 There was nothing in them but a piece of bread.
2 She came back, with some bread and meat and a little mug of beer.
3 "Saturday night," said I, when we sat at our supper of bread and cheese and beer.
4 Therefore I resolved to put my hunk of bread and butter down the leg of my trousers.
5 My sister had a trenchant way of cutting our bread and butter for us, that never varied.
6 Biddy was waiting for me at the kitchen door, with a mug of new milk and a crust of bread.
7 I took advantage of a moment when Joe had just looked at me, and got my bread and butter down my leg.
8 The bread and meat were acceptable, and the beer was warming and tingling, and I was soon in spirits to look about me.
9 She put the mug down on the stones of the yard, and gave me the bread and meat without looking at me, as insolently as if I were a dog in disgrace.
10 He was about to take another bite, and had just got his head on one side for a good purchase on it, when his eye fell on me, and he saw that my bread and butter was gone.
11 The bull-like proceeding last mentioned, besides that it was unquestionably to be regarded in the light of a liberty, was particularly disagreeable just after bread and meat.
12 As to our lodging, it's not by any means splendid, because I have my own bread to earn, and my father hasn't anything to give me, and I shouldn't be willing to take it, if he had.
13 Mr. Pumblechook and I breakfasted at eight o'clock in the parlor behind the shop, while the shopman took his mug of tea and hunch of bread and butter on a sack of peas in the front premises.
14 Nothing less than the frosty light of the cheerful sky, the sight of people passing beyond the bars of the court-yard gate, and the reviving influence of the rest of the bread and meat and beer, would have brought me round.
15 To-night, Joe several times invited me, by the display of his fast diminishing slice, to enter upon our usual friendly competition; but he found me, each time, with my yellow mug of tea on one knee, and my untouched bread and butter on the other.
16 "Mr. and Mrs. Hubble might like to see you in your new gen-teel figure too, Pip," said Joe, industriously cutting his bread, with his cheese on it, in the palm of his left hand, and glancing at my untasted supper as if he thought of the time when we used to compare slices.