"What does that mean—die?"
"Yes."
"Don't give up!" said Bert, feeling his sympathies go out toward this prodigal son. "You are young. It takes a good deal to kill a young man."
"You're a good fellow, Bert. That's your name, isn't it? Will you do me a favor?"
"To be sure I will."
"I am famished. I haven't had anything to eat for twenty-four hours. Can you slip downstairs and fetch me something to eat—no matter what—and a glass of milk?"
Bert hesitated. He could get what was required in the pantry, but suppose the farmer or his wife should wake up! It would make his position a very awkward one.
"Hadn't you better go down yourself?" he asked.
"I can hardly stand, I am so tired. Besides, I don't know where mother keeps things."
"I will try," said Bert; and he slipped on his pantaloons, and went softly downstairs.