"Do you know, Silas, how much butter is used in Squire Marlowe's family?"
"No," answered the farmer, with interest.
"Hannah—Mrs. Marlowe's girl—told me they used six pounds and a half last week, and there's only four of them, including the girl. What do you think of that?"
"What do I think? I think it's sinful—positively sinful! Six pounds and a half at twenty-seven cents——"
"They pay thirty-two, and get the best in the market," amended his wife.
"Worse and worse! That comes to what—Bert?"
"Two dollars and eight cents," answered Bert promptly.
"Sho! Did you ever?"
"Well, I s'pose the squire can stand it. No doubt they live on the fat of the land. I just wish they'd invite me to tea, so I could judge for myself. I could tell within five cents how much the supper cost."
It must be confessed that Bert did not enjoy his dinner. The sausage was far from rich or juicy, and the beans were almost cold. The potatoes and bread have already been referred to. However, there was to be a second course, and to that Bert looked forward anxiously, for he had by no means satisfied his appetite. It was a plain rice pudding, and partially satisfactory, for it takes very little skill to boil rice, and there is little variety in the quality. By way of sauce Mrs. Wilson provided cheap grade of molasses. Still Bert enjoyed it better than any other article on the table.