“There's Nelson calling me,” said John, hurriedly. “I must leave you; there's the fence; lie down there, and I'll be back in a jiffy.”
“John, I say, why don't you come?”
“I'm coming. You mustn't think everybody's got such a thundering great appetite as you, Nelson.”
“I guess you've got enough to keep you from pining away,” said Nelson, good-naturedly, “you're twice as fat as I am.”
“That's because I work harder,” said John, rather illogically.
The brothers went in to breakfast.
But a few minutes elapsed before John reappeared, bearing under his arm a parcel wrapped up in an old newspaper. He came up panting with the haste he had made.
“It didn't take you long to eat breakfast,” said Paul.
“No, I hurried through it; I thought you would get tired of waiting. And now I'll walk along with you a little ways. But wait here's something for you.”
So saying he unrolled the newspaper and displayed a loaf of bread, fresh and warm, which looked particularly inviting to Paul, whose scanty breakfast had by no means satisfied his appetite. Besides this, there was a loaf of molasses ginger-bread, with which all who were born in the country, or know anything of New England housekeeping, are familiar.