"Dinner!" I hollered. "Come on; chowder's gettin' cold."
Still they didn't move and I begun to think my fun had been all for myself. I was disappointed, but I set down to the table and commenced to eat. Then I heard a noise. The pair of 'em had drifted over to the doorway and was lookin' in.
"Hello!" says I, blowin' a spoonful of chowder to cool it. "Am I givin' a good imitation of a hungry man? If I ain't, appearances are deceitful."
"Hog!" snarls Clark, with enthusiasm.
"Not at all," says I. "There's plenty of everything and Mr. Shelton's welcome. So would you be, Major, if there was anything aboard you could eat. I'm awful sorry about them prunes and nutmeats. I only wish Crowell had laid in a supply—I do so."
The Major's mouth was waterin' so he had to swallow afore he could answer. When he did I realized what he was at his best. Shelton didn't say a word, but the looks of him was enough.
"My, my!" says I, "I'm glad I made a whole kettleful of this stuff; I can use a grown man's share of it."
Shelton looked at Clark and Clark looked at him. Then the Major yelps at him like a sore pup.
"Go ahead!" he shouts. "Go ahead in! Don't stand starin' at me like a cannibal. Go in and eat, why don't you?"
You could see the Congressman was divided in his feelin's. He wanted dinner worse than the Old Harry wanted the backslidin' deacon, but he hated to desert his friend.