"Then," said her father in an abstracted tone, "we won't say anything more about it."
After a moment he spoke again:
"What were you thinking about yourself?"
"I was thinking," she replied, "that when they waken up in a little while there won't be anything at all for them to eat and they strangers."
"Hum!" said her father.
"There's two cold potatoes in the basket," she continued, "and a small piece of bread, and there isn't anything more than that; so let you be looking around for something to eat the way we won't be put to shame before the men."
"It's easy talking!" said he; "where am I to look? Do you want me to pick red herrings out of the grass and sides of bacon off the little bushes?"
"We passed a house last night a mile down the road," said Mary; "go you there and get whatever you're able to get, and if you can't get anything buy it off the people in the house. I've three shillings in my pocket that I was saving for a particular thing, but I'll give them to you because I wouldn't like to be shamed before the strange men."
Her father took the money:
"I wish I knew that you had it yesterday," he growled, "I wouldn't have gone to sleep with a throat on me like a mid-summer ditch and it full of dust and pismires."