"Suppose you try it," suggested Maria pleasantly. "It would please Aunt Saidie."
"It ain't to please her," sourly responded Fletcher, as he drove the knife with a lunge into the yellow loaf. "She's a thriftless, no-account housekeeper, and I'll tell her so tomorrow."
Still holding the knife in his clenched fist, he sat munching the cake with a relish which brought a smile to Maria's tired eves.
"Yes, I've a powerful sweet tooth myself," he added, as he cut another slice.
CHAPTER VII. Will Faces Desperation and Stands at Bay
Rising at daybreak next morning, Will's eyes lighted in his first glance from the window on Christopher's blue-clad figure commanding the ploughed field on the left of the house. In the distance towered the black pines, and against them the solitary worker was relieved in the slanting sunbeams which seemed to arrest and hold his majestic outline. The split basket of plants was on his arm, and he was busily engaged in "setting out" Will's neglected crop of tobacco.
Leaving Molly still asleep, Will dressed himself hurriedly, and, putting the diamond brooch in his pocket, ran out to where Christopher was standing midway of the bare field.
"So you're doing my work again," he said, not ungratefully.
"If I didn't I'd like to know who would," responded Christopher with rough kindliness, as he dropped a wilted plant into a hole. "You're up early this morning. Where are you off to?"
Will drew the brooch from his pocket and held it up with a laugh.