A large steaming basin of oatmeal porridge was soon laid before each of them, made from rich milk, instead of water. They soon made short work of this. Then Jane brought in a plate of home-made cakes, well-buttered, but still their hunger did not abate one jot. The farmer was used to big appetites, and neither his wife nor Jane expressed any surprise. Then their host took out his huge clasp knife and cut several rashers from a flitch of bacon that hung suspended from the ceiling. These were fried along with a few eggs, and when they had cleared this third dish, the keen edge was taken from their appetites, and they declared that they were satisfied.
They thanked the farmer for his great kindness, and asked him how much they were indebted to him, but when they offered to pay, he held up both hands, and exclaimed--
"Not a penny! Keep your money. You'll want it all before long. It does me good to see lads with pluck like yours. Maybe you'll get further than I did. I think you're made of different stuff, and I ha' quite ta'en a fancy to you. While we've lads like you, we shall never want men to fight the Frenchers."
"I have a brother fighting under Clive now, in India!" exclaimed Jack, with a touch of family pride.
"Oh, maybe you're Squire Elliot's son, then!"
At this Jack's face fell, for he saw that he had well-nigh given away his identity.
"Ah well, never mind! Perhaps ye did not get on very well with the old squire. He was a harder man after your poor mother died."
The mention of his mother gave Jack a twinge of pain, and caused a lump to rise in his throat. His mother's early death had removed his guardian angel. Perhaps he would have been a better lad if she had lived; more tame and docile, like other boys.
"Puir lad!" exclaimed the farmer's wife; "and has he no mother then? He ma' weel run away."
Jack's tears were very near the surface, but he forced them back with an effort, for he considered it a great weakness to give way to his feelings.