"But once I got outside the glass I plumped up quick enough!" Davy returned. He saw the look in Janet's eyes that called for bravery in him. She was pale and pitiful, and he turned comforter at once.
"It's all dependin' upon the position ye take, how ye look t' others. Once ye get outside of most things, ye straightway freshen up an' get likelier lookin'!"
"You've had no supper to-night, Mr. Hungry Man!" Janet put her face close to Davy's.
"I ain't sufferin' fur food, Janet."
"You never own to any suffering, Davy, but look here!" She ran to the landing and brought in a large tray, neatly spread with food. "It isn't leavings," she explained, placing the dishes before him; "Eliza Jane's cooking is for company, mine for Davy and me! I made the biscuits myself. Aren't they flaky?"
"They are that!" nodded Davy; "flaky don't do them justice; they're flakes. An' that coffee! By gum! Janet, that smells like coffee!"
"Davy, it is coffee!" The girl was glowing, and her eyes shone blue in the lamplight. "I'm going to eat with you, Davy,"—she drew up a stool,—"eat and talk." Davy fell to with a suddenly awakened appetite, but Janet watched him above her clasped hands. Presently she said:
"Davy, who is going to—to—" She was about to say, "keep house for you," but, recalling Susan Jane's helplessness, she said instead, "who is going to keep you from being awfully lonely, now?"
"Why, Janet,"—Davy's full mouth hampered his speech,—"I reckon I'll have t' stay lonely straight on t' the end. I've had my life."
"Davy, will you share me with Cap'n Billy?" Davy gulped his mouthful and tilted his chair back.