“Oh, dear, no!” said Nathan hastily, “not after our hearty supper.”
“Does he call the supper hearty?” thought Tom. “I’ll bet the old woman won’t let him have what he wants to eat.”
Here Tom was mistaken, for Mr. and Mrs. Middleton were quite agreed in their notions of economy.
Very much against her will Mrs. Middleton produced some bread and butter, and on Tom’s specially calling for it, some meat. Her thin lips were compressed with displeasure, and she very evidently thought our hero a glutton. If she expected her displeasure would produce the least effect on Tom, she was mistaken. He ate heartily—in fact, he ate all that was set before him.
“Have you had enough?” asked Mrs. Middleton sharply.
“It will do,” said Tom coolly.
“I am glad of it,” she retorted.
“Pleasant female that!” thought Tom. “She isn’t used to me yet. She’ll find it harder to starve me than she thinks.”
“Now, I think I’ll go to bed,” said Tom. “Oh, there’s one thing I forgot to mention; I noticed there was a straw-bed in my room.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Middleton. “Doesn’t it suit you?”