"Wait," said the woman on the bough overhead, "till I see what there is in the pantry."
She disappeared with great suddenness; but presently a little window opened in the side of the tree trunk, from which the wrinkled old face looked out.
"Here are a few dry crusts from the closet," she said. "You may have them. With a little honey I think they will go very well."
She handed two or three mouldy scraps of bread out as she spoke, which Vance took with as good grace as he could muster.
"Where is the honey?" he asked, eying his crusts ruefully.
"Oh, I'll eat the honey while you eat the crusts," was the answer. "That is by far the best way to arrange it."
"You are mean enough, I hope," he exclaimed angrily.
But, alas! at the word the crusts left his grasp and appeared in the hand of the old woman.