“Oh, come in if you like,” said Bertha, who, in her prerogative as eldest, was spokesman for the rest. “You can probably find a dry end of plank somewhere.”
The place was small and the benches already nearly occupied, but the newcomers promptly took possession of what remained for them and sat in stony and miserable silence watching the rain pour down.
Presently Jo appeared, gaily bearing a large wooden platter of bacon in one hand and a carefully held paper bag in the other. “Here you are,” she cried, “smoking hot! Come a-running! Oh!” She stopped short at the unexpected apparition of the new arrivals and looked so taken aback that her friends all giggled. But it was only for a moment that Jo was nonplussed. It might have been a restaurant and the girls of her own party the guests upon whom she alone waited, for all the attention she gave the four huddled on the bench near the door. “Bacon and rolls for eight,” she began again. “I hope, ladies, you will not criticize the bacon, but the fact is our chimney is smoky and the cook says you must excuse it if she has scorched it a bit. I am sorry, too, to announce that a burglar broke in last night and stole all our silver, so if you will kindly adapt yourselves to the familiar adage, ‘fingers were made before forks,’ I think you will get on very well. The second course is on its way.” She passed around the bacon and the bag of rolls. Each girl was hungry enough to be glad of anything to eat.
As she paused before Bertha she said something in a low tone. Bertha peeped into the bag and then nodded. Jo removed two of the rolls and laid them aside, then picking up the plate of bacon she went toward the four forlornities and said, “Would you like some of this? I’m sorry we can’t offer you a Delmonico feast but it’s better than a feast of Barmecide.”
One of the young men looked brightly up and said heartily, “That’s awfully good of you. I am afraid we shall be robbing you.”
“No, there are more eatables outside when we can get at them. I believe our man is drying them out or something. We’ll be glad if you will accept this slight token of our hospitable intentions.”
The young man took the plate and passed it to his neighbor. “Won’t you have some, Mabel?” he asked.
She looked at the charred edges of the bacon scornfully.
“I never eat burnt food,” she answered.
The young man flushed up. “You’ll have some, Kitty,” he continued, passing the plate to the other young woman.