"Oh, certainly, certainly!" said Mr. March: "it was not on any pressing business. Much obliged to you, sir. Sit down and have some breakfast with us: won't you?"
The man was an old bachelor,—a Mr. Bangs,—who lived alone on a farm some six miles north of Mr. March's. He looked longingly at the nice breakfast, and said to Mrs. March:—
"Well, I had what I called a breakfast before I left home; but your coffee does smell so tempting, I think I'll take a cup,—since you're so kind."
Then he drew up a chair and sat down, and began to eat and drink as if he had just come starved from a shipwreck.
Mr. March laid the letter down by his plate, and went on talking with Mr. Bangs as politely as if he had nothing else to do.
Rob and Nelly looked at the letter; then at each other; then at their father and mother: Rob fidgeted on his chair. Finally, Nelly put down her knife and fork, and said she did not want any more breakfast. Mrs. March could hardly keep from laughing to see the children's impatience, though she felt nearly as impatient herself. At last she said to the children:—
"You may be excused, children. Run out into the barn and see if you can find any eggs!" Rob and Nelly darted off, only too glad to be free.
"Did you ever see such a pig!" exclaimed Rob. "He'd had his breakfast at home. I don't see what made papa ask him!"
"He ate as if he were half starved," said Nelly. "I guess old bachelors don't cook much that's good. Oh! I do wish he'd hurry."
Mr. Bangs had no idea of hurrying. It was a long time since he had tasted good home-made bread and butter and coffee, and he knew it would be a still longer time before he tasted them again. He almost wished he had two stomachs, like a camel, and could fill them both. At last, when he really could eat no more, and Mrs. March had poured for him the last drop out of the coffee-pot, he went away. The children were watching in the barn to see him go. As soon as he had passed the barn-door, they scampered back to the house.