"I will fix them, marm," replied Harry, who felt the strength of ten stout men in his limbs at that moment. "But you have had no supper."
"No."
"Wait a minute. Have you a basket?"
Katy brought him a peck basket, and Harry rushed out of the house as though he had been shot. Great deeds were before him, and he was inspired for the occasion.
In a quarter of an hour he returned. The basket was nearly full. Placing it in a chair, he took from it a package of candles, one of which he lighted and placed in a tin candlestick on the table.
"Now we have got a little light on the subject," said he, as he began to display the contents of the basket. "Here, Katy, is two pounds of meat; here is half a pound of tea; you had better put a little in the teapot, and let it be steeping for your mother."
"God bless you!" exclaimed Mrs. Flint. "You are an angel sent from Heaven to help us in our distress."
"No, marm; I ain't an angel," answered Harry, who seemed to feel that Julia Bryant had an exclusive monopoly of that appellation, so far as it could be reasonably applied to mortals. "I only want to do my duty, marm."
Katy Flint was so bewildered that she could say nothing, though her opinion undoubtedly coincided with that of her mother.
"Here is two loaves of bread and two dozen crackers; a pound of butter; two pounds of sugar. There! I did not bring any milk."