“Alexander, you will be the loser if you don't have some of this,” she said. “It's just delicious!”
“Maybe smoked spoon victuals are proper for invalid women,” he retorted, “but they are mighty thin diet for a hardy man.”
“What about a couple of eggs and some beef extract?” suggested the cook.
“Sounds more sensible by a long shot.”
“Ruth, you make this toast,” said the Harvester and disappeared.
Presently he placed before his guest a couple of eggs poached in milk, a steaming bowl of beef juice, and a plate of toast. For one instant the Harvester thought this was going into the fire, the next a slice was picked up and smelled testily. The Girl sat on her grandfather's chair arm, and breaking a morsel of toast dipped it into the broth and tasted it.
“Oh but that is good!” she cried. “Why haven't I some also? Am I supposed to have no 'tummy'?”
“Your turn next,” said the Harvester, as he again gave her the fork and went to the kitchen.
When he returned and served the Girl he found her grandfather eating heartily.
“Why I think this is fun,” said the gentle lady. “I haven't had such a fine time in ages. I love the heat of the flame on my body and things taste so good. I could go to sleep without any narcotic, right now.”