“I am hungry, Lissy. I have eaten nothing since dinner yesterday. I am famished!” and the young man, in a state of remarkable exhaustion, leaned against the tree.
Melissa’s heart was touched. In the bitter days of her gypsy life she had known the sensation he so artfully simulated. Overcome by his heartbroken tone, but not entirely divested of suspicion, she said:—
“Dig under the tree near the roots, and you’ll find lots: but mind you don’t tell,” for M’liss had her hoards as well as the rats and squirrels.
But the master of course was unable to find them, the effects of hunger probably blinding his senses. M’liss grew uneasy. At length she peered at him through the leaves in an elfish way, and questioned:—
“If I come down and give you some, you’ll promise you won’t touch me?”
The master promised.
“Hope you’ll die if you do?”
The master accepted instant dissolution as a forfeit. M’liss slid down the tree. The duties of hospitality fulfilled, she seated herself at a little distance and eyed the master with extreme caution.
“Why didn’t you eat your breakfast, you bad man?”
“Because I’ve run away.”