Summer 1870 – Dreaming of the Moon, Longing for the Stars



Thorton-Syme looked at the stew in his bowl. “I’m disappointed to admit, I miss potatoes. And onions.”

Doctor Jones sighed. “Chicken. Roast chicken. Beef steak. Pork sausage. Bacon.”

“Gentlemen,” I said, “If we expect to escape, you must needs eat.”

“This is far better fare than I have tasted in any prison that has hosted me,” said Father. “These cats want us fat and lazy.”