[CHAPTER V.]
SPONGE-CAKE.
"Those crackers aren't very nice, that's a fact," said he, looking penitently at the overflowing paper bag, which stood upright on the seat between them.
"Not half as bad as the cheese," returned Flaxie.
"Well, I don't blame you for not liking mouldy cheese; I don't like it myself," admitted Preston. "But I suppose, now, Chicky, if you had a piece of pie or a cake or a sandwich, you'd enjoy it, and feel more comfortable, wouldn't you?"
The gentle tone and manner touched his little sister, and called back her happiest smiles in a moment.
"Oh, I don't care the least bit about anything! I'm not very hungry, Preston; really I'm not."
"Yes, but I don't want you to be hungry at all," said the benevolent brother. "I want people that travel with me to feel all right and have a good time." Here he took out his purse and looked at the silver in it; there seemed to be plenty. "I wish a boy would come in with something besides pop-corn and peanuts, and all that sort of nonsense, don't you? I'll tell you what I'll do," added he, returning the purse to his pocket. "I'll get out at Bremen and buy you a great square of sponge-cake."
"Oh, but Preston, you can't buy it there!"
"What's the reason I can't?"