from gloomy musings by a discreet tap announcing the
return of the scouting party. The scouting party was piled with parcels
up to its round eyes and from the parcels issued an odour so delicious
that the doctor's depression vanished.

"Good hunting, eh?"

"Prime, sir. 'Tisn't store stuff, either! As soon as I see that look in
your eye I remembered 'bout the tea-fight over at Knox's Church last
night and how they'd be sure to be selling off what's left, for the
benefit of the heathen." The boy gave the roundest wink Callandar had
ever seen and deposited his parcels upon the bed. "They always have
'bout forty times as much's they can use. Course I didn't get you any
_broken_ vittles," he added, noticing the alarm upon the doctor's face.
"It's all as good as the best. Wait till you see!"

He began to clear the wash-stand in a businesslike manner, talking all
the time. "This here towel will do for a cloth. It's bran' clean--cross
my heart! I borrowed a dish or two offen the church. They know me....
We'll put the chicken in the middle and the ham along at this end and
the pie over there where it can't slip off--"

"I don't like pie, boy."

"I do. Pie's good for you. We'll put the beet salad by the chicken and
the cabbage salad by the ham and the chow-chow betwixt 'em. Then the
choc'late cake can go by the pie--"

"Boy, I don't like chocolate cake."

"Honest? Ah, you're kiddin' me! Really? Choc'late cake's awful good for
you. I love chocolate cake. This here cake was made by Esther Coombe's
Aunt Amy--it's a sure winner! Say, Mister, what do you like anyway?"

"Ever so many more things than I did yesterday. By Jove, that chicken
looks good!"

"Yep. That's Mrs. Hallard's chicken. I thought you'd want the best. She
ris' it herself. And made the stuffin' too."

"Did she 'ris' the ham also?"

"Nope. It's Miss Taylor's ham. Home cured. The minister thinks a whole
lot of Miss Taylor's curin'. Ma thinks that if Miss Taylor wasn't quite
so hombly, minister might ask her jest on account of the ham. You try
it--wait a jiffy till I sneak some knives!"

Callandar looked at the decorated wash-stand and felt better. He had
forgotten all about the room, and when the knives came, in even less
than the promised jiffy, he forgot everything but the varied excellences
of the food before him. The chicken was a chicken such as one dreams of.
The salads were delicious, the homemade bread and butter fresh and
sweet; the ham might well