"Well, Aunt Nancy, you haven't lost us yet awhile, an' if Mr. Pratt has gone home that settles the matter for a while."
"Yes, Jack dear, but the sin is yet to be atoned for; it is only a postponement of the evil day."
"Any way there's no need of worryin' about it now. If, when we get home, you feel that he should know the truth, it won't be much of a job for me to walk over to his house, an' then," Jack added with a feeble attempt at a smile, "they won't have so far to carry me when I'm taken to the poor farm."
"Don't talk in such a manner, my dear, for I am hoping it won't ever come to pass."
Jack made no reply.
He felt quite confident the farmer would insist on his going to the home for paupers, but no good could be done by further distressing the little woman.
"I declare I'd entirely forgotten you and I have had no dinner," she suddenly said with a nervous laugh. "I'll get some cold meat and bread, if there is any left; but it is astonishing how strong people's appetites are at the seashore, especially during camp-meeting time. We must get along without coffee, for the deacon fairly swam in that second pot I made."
"I don't feel so terribly hungry," Jack replied; "but I'll sit down for the sake of seeing you eat. As to the coffee, that don't trouble me; water is good enough for boys."
"It is more wholesome I admit; but there's nothing good enough for a dear heart like yours."
Then the little woman bustled around as Jack had seen her do at home, and in a few moments a most appetizing lunch was spread, the amount of food contradicting her fears that all the provisions had been consumed.