"Here's sweetenin' for your tea," and Toby, observing that Charley had not helped himself, passed the molasses.
"Thank you," Charley accepted, putting a spoonful of the molasses into his tea, and wondering why it was used instead of sugar, but venturing no question. Had he asked, Skipper Zeb would have told him that it was much less expensive than sugar, and that sugar was a luxury they could not afford.
There were no vegetables, for on the Labrador coast the summers are too short and too cold to grow them, and not one of the Twig family had ever so much as tasted a potato or an onion or a tomato, or, indeed, any of the wholesome vegetables that we, in our kindlier land, have so plentifully, and accept as a matter of course. But Charley and the Twigs, old and young, found the stewed bear's meat, with Mrs. Twig's light, fluffy dumplings and the good bread and molasses, both satisfying and appetizing; and when Charley declined a third helping, urged upon him by Skipper Zeb, he declared that he was as full as though he had eaten a Christmas dinner.
When all were finished, Skipper Zeb bowed his head and gave thanks for the bountiful meal; and then, with Toby's assistance, drew the benches and chests back to the wall.
"Set down, now, and when I lights my pipe we'll talk over this fix you're gettin' in," said Skipper Zeb. Drawing a pipe and a plug of black tobacco and a jack-knife from his pocket, he shaved some of the plug into the palm of his left hand, rolled it between his palms, and filled the pipe. Then, with some deliberation, he selected a long, slender sliver from the wood box, ignited it at the stove, lighted his pipe and carefully extinguished the burning sliver.
"This is a fix, now! Well, now, 'tis a fix!" Skipper Zeb sat down upon a bench by Charley's side, and for a minute or two puffed his pipe in silence, sending up a cloud of smoke. Then, turning to Charley, he boomed: "But 'tis not such a bad fix we can't get out of un! No, sir! We'll see about this fix! We'll see!"
"Thank you," said Charley gratefully, and with hope that there might be a way out of his trouble after all.
"Now, to start in the beginning, and that's where most things have to start," said Skipper Zeb, "we won't worry about un. Worry is bad for the insides of a man's head, and what's bad for the insides of a man's head is bad for all of his insides, and if he worries, and keeps un up, he gets sick. To-day is to-day and to-morrow is to-morrow. 'Tis but sense for a man to provide for to-morrow, and do his best to do un, but if he can't there's no use his worryin' about un. That's how I figgers. You're feelin' well and hearty to-day?"
"You just had a good snack of vittles?"