“There,” said John, “I guess that'll be enough for your dinner.”
“But how did you get it without having any questions asked?” inquired our hero.
“Oh,” said John, “I asked mother for them, and when she asked what I wanted of them, I told her that I'd answer that question to-morrow. You see I wanted to give you a chance to get off out of the way, though mother wouldn't tell, even if she knew.”
“All right,” said Paul, with satisfaction.
He could not help looking wistfully at the bread, which looked very inviting to one accustomed to poorhouse fare.
“If you wouldn't mind,” he said hesitating, “I would like to eat a little of the bread now.”
“Mind, of course not,” said John, breaking off a liberal slice. “Why didn't I think of that before? Walking must have given you a famous appetite.”
John looked on with evident approbation, while Paul ate with great apparent appetite.
“There,” said he with a sigh of gratification, as he swallowed the last morsel, “I haven't tasted anything so good for a long time.”
“Is it as good as Mrs. Mudge's soup?” asked John, mischievously.