"Jem," said the old woman, "what, art hungry?"
"That I am, brave and hungry!"
"Aye! No wonder, you've been brave hard at work—eh!"
"Brave hard! I wish it was not so dark, mother, that you might just step out and see the great bed I've dug: I know you'd say it was no bad day's work—and oh, mother! I've good news; farmer Truck will give us the giant strawberries, and I am to go for 'em to-morrow morning; and I'll be back afore breakfast."
"God bless the boy, how he talks! Four miles there, and four miles back again, afore breakfast."
"Aye, upon Lightfoot, you know, mother, very easily; mayn't I?"
"Aye, child."
"Why do you sigh, mother?"
"Finish thy supper, child."
"I've done!" cried Jem, swallowing the last mouthful hastily, as if he thought he had been too long at supper. "And now for the great needle; I must see and mend Lightfoot's bridle afore I go to bed."