They went for the satchel, and when they did so they began to calculate as to what they could add to its contents. They were few things, and poor ones.
He did not sit down, but stood by and watched them for a moment, when, having reached their sequestered nook, they began to spread out their banquet. It was composed of the remnant eggs, some bread, and a slice of cheese. It looked painfully scant, and Meg had an anxious eye.
“Is that all?” asked John Holt, abruptly.
“Yes,” said Meg. “We shall have to make it do.”
“My Lord!” ejaculated John Holt, suddenly, in his blunt fashion. And he turned round and walked away.
“Where’s he gone?” exclaimed Ben, timidly.
But they none of them could guess. Nice as he had been, he had a brusque way, and, perhaps, he meant to leave them.
But by the time they had divided the eggs, and the bread and cheese, and had fairly begun, he came marching back. He had a basket on his arm, and two bottles stuck out of one coat pocket, while a parcel protruded from the other. He came and threw himself down on the grass beside them, and opened the basket. It was full of good things.
“I’m going to have lunch with you,” he said, “and I have a pretty big appetite, so I’ve brought you something to eat. You can’t tramp about on that sort of thing.”
The basket they had seen the day before had been a poor thing compared to this. The contents of this would have been a feast for much more fastidious creatures than three ravenous children. There were chickens and sandwiches and fruit; the bottles held lemonade, and the package in the coat pocket was a box of candy.