At six o'clock Mr. Johonnet called the little travellers to breakfast. The coffee was very dark-colored, with molasses boiled in it, and there were fried pork, fried potatoes swimming in fat, and clammy "rye and indian bread." None of these dishes were very inviting to the boys, who both had excellent fare at home; and they would have made but a light meal, if it had not been for the pumpkin pie and cheese, which Mr. Johonnet asked his wife to set on the table.
"Poor children, they must eat," said he; "for they've got to get home to see their sick father."
There were so many questions to be asked, that the boys made quick work of their breakfast and hurried away.
"There, glad we're out of that scrape," said Fred.
"But didn't you lie? Why, Fred, how could you lie so?"
"H'm! Did it up handsome—didn't I, though? Wouldn't give a red cent for you. You haven't the least gumption about lying."
Willy shivered and drew away a little. His fine nature was shocked by Fred's coarseness and lack of principle; still, this was the boy he had chosen for an intimate friend!
"If it hadn't been for me you'd have let the cat out of the bag," chuckled Fred. "You hung your head down as if you'd been stealing a sheep."
It was three miles farther to Harlow, and Fred grumbled all the way about his sore feet.
"See that yellow house through the trees?" said he. "That's my uncle Diah's; wish we could go there and rest."