CHAPTER VI
A LOAD OF GRAPES
When the boys reached the house they found Mrs. Kimball just putting supper on the table. There was a delicious smell, which Roger at first did not recognize.
"Hurrah!" cried Adrian. "That's what I like!"
"What?"
"Fried chicken and corn bread. Can't anybody beat mother at that."
"Nor at anything else in the cooking line, I guess," agreed Roger.
The two boys made short work of washing up and combing their hair, and when they hurried down to the kitchen they had hungry looks that did Mrs. Kimball good to see.
"I can't abide a poor eater," she said, as she heaped Roger's plate with the crisp brown chicken, fried in sweet butter, and handed him a plate of smoking hot golden-yellow corn bread. "I do like t' see a body pitch in 'n' eat th' victuals set afore 'em," she went on. "After a body goes t' work 'n' gits up a good meal, it's mighty disparagin' t' see th' things scorned down on. I'm glad t' see ye eat, Roger. Yer appetite's improved wonderful already. Yer uncle 'n' cousin usually don't need much urgin' in th' eatin' line," she added significantly, as she glanced at her husband's and son's well-heaped plates.