She ascended the stairs, two steps at a time, and opened the door of her son's room.
If Abner had been in bed his mother would have pulled him out, for her arm was vigorous, but the bed was empty.
“Well, I vum!” she ejaculated, in surprise. “Ef that boy isn't up already. That's a new wrinkle. And the little boy gone, too. What can it mean?”
It occurred to Mrs. Barton that Abner and Herbert might have got up early to go fishing, though she had never known him to make so early a start before.
“I reckon breakfast'll bring 'em round,” she said to herself. “I reckon I shall have to split the wood myself.”
In half an hour breakfast was ready. It was of a very simple character, for the family resources were limited. Mr. Barton came downstairs, and looked discontentedly at the repast provided.
“This is a pretty mean breakfast, Mrs. B.,” he remarked. “Where's your meat and taters?”
“There's plenty of 'em in the market,” answered Mrs. Barton.
“Then, why didn't you buy some?”
“You ought to know, Joel Barton. You give me the money, and I'll see that you have a good breakfast.”