I'm goin' home to dinner myself."
"Where do you live?"
"Over yonder."
He pointed to a farmhouse about a dozen rods away.
"Do you think your mother would give me some dinner?"
"I guess she would. Mam's real accommodatin'."
"Will you ask her?"
"Yes; just come along of me."
He turned into the yard, and followed a
narrow path to the back door.
"I'll stay here while you ask," said Carl.
The boy entered the house, and came out
after a brief absence.
"Mam says you're to come in," he said.
Carl, glad at heart, and feeling quite
prepared to eat fifty cents' worth of dinner,
followed the boy inside.
A pleasant-looking, matronly woman,
plainly but neatly attired, came forward to
greet him.
"Nat says you would like to get some dinner," she said.
"Yes," answered Carl. "I hope you'll excuse
my applying to you, but your son tells me
there is no hotel near by."
"The nearest one is three miles away from here."
"I don't think I can hold out so long," said
Carl, smiling.
"Sit right down with Nat," said the farmer's
wife, hospitably. "Mr. Sweetser won't be
home for half an hour. We've got enough,
such as it is."
Evidently Mrs. Sweetser was a good cook.
The dinner consisted of boiled mutton, with
several kinds of vegetables. A cup of tea and
two kinds of pie followed.
It was hard to tell which of the two boys did
fuller justice to the meal. Nat had the usual
appetite of a healthy farm boy, and Carl, in
spite of his recent anxieties, and narrow escape
from serious peril, did not allow himself
to fall behind.
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