“We’ve got to get our own breakfast out of the way in a hurry, girls,” she said, “When country people say early, they mean early—EARLY! And we want to have coffee and cakes ready for these good friends of ours when they do come. A good many of them will come from a long way off and I think they’ll all be glad to have a little something extra before they start work. It won’t hurt us a bit to think so, and act accordingly anyhow.”
So within half an hour the Pratts and the Camp Fire Girls had had their own breakfasts, the dishes were washed, and great pots of coffee were boiling on the fires that had been built. And, just as the fragrant aroma arose on the cool air, the first of the teams that brought the workers came in sight, with jovial Jud Harkness driving.
“My, but that coffee smells good, Miss Mercer!” he roared. “Say, I’m not strong for all these city fixin’s in the way of food. Plain home cookin’ serves me well enough, but there’s one thing where you sure do lay all over us, and that’s in makin’ coffee. Give me a mug of that, Mis’ Pratt, an’ I’ll start work.”
And from the way in which the coffee and the cakes, the latter spread with good maple syrup from trees that grew near Cranford, began to disappear, it was soon evident that Eleanor had made no mistake, and that the breakfast that she had had prepared for the workers would by no means be wasted.
“It does me good to see you men eat this way,” she said, laughing. “That’s one thing we don’t do properly in the city—eat. We peck at a lot of things, instead of eating a few plain ones, and a lot of them. And I’ll bet that you men will work all the harder for this extra breakfast.”
“Just you watch and see!” bellowed Jud. “I’m boss here to-day, ma’am, and I tell you I’m some nigger driver. Ain’t I, boys?”
But he accompanied the threat with a jovial wink, and it was easy to see that these men liked and respected him, and were only too willing to look up to him as a leader in the work of kindness in which they were about to engage.
“I don’t know why all you boys are so good to me, Jud,” said Mrs. Pratt, brokenly. “I can’t begin to find words to thank you, even.”
“Don’t try, Mis’ Pratt,” said Jud, looking remarkably fierce, though he was winking back something that looked suspiciously like a tear. “I guess we ain’t none of us forgot Tom Pratt—as good a friend as men ever had! Many’s the time he’s done kind things for all of us! I guess it’d be pretty poor work if some of his friends couldn’t turn out to help his wife and kids when they’re in trouble.”
“He knows what you’re doing, I’m sure of that,” she answered. “And God will reward you, Jud Harkness!”