he expressed it, meaning that the time had come to eat, as
both hour and minute hand were hugging twelve, whistles blowing and a
distant bell sounding, all of which indicated meal time was "flush."

"What's the matter?" asked Dorothy, coming around the house.

"The commissary department has been looted," said Ned. "In other
words, our grub is gone."

"Gone!" echoed Dorothy, incredulously.

"The very gonest gone you ever saw. Not so much as a toothpick left."

"What shall we do," sighed the girl, who had put up such a tempting
lunch, and had even partly spread it out on the paper-cloth in that
"safe" place under the tree.

"Victuals gone?" asked Mrs. Hardy, from the side window. "I might have
told you as much, only for hurryin' to get them wet clothes off that
boy. Why, our hounds would steal the eggs from the nests, worst
thieves I ever saw. Well, never mind. When I get Sam back to the
hayfield I'll do what I can for you. But he has to be quick, for it's
all cut and there's no telling when a thunder storm 'll come up."

"Oh, we wouldn't think of troubling you so much," demurred Dorothy.

"Is there any store around?" asked Ned, significantly.

"One a mile off that has not a morsel fit to eat in it. I'd as soon
swallow poison as eat anything out of that place. Here, young girl (to
Tavia), you run down to the dairy there, the door is unlocked, and
bring up a pail of milk that's on the bench under the window. I'll
give you a couple of glasses and you can help yourselves until Sam gets
done."

Tavia hurried off, willing enough to fetch the milk, and before she
reached the door on her return trip--there was Nat!

Nobody dared to laugh. What might Mrs. Hardy think?

But Nat in overalls! And a dark blue shirt! And the yellow sneaks!

"Splendid," declared Dorothy, feeling the absolute necessity of saying
something grateful.

"I feel like a new man," said Nat.

"Bet you do now," spoke Mrs. Hardy, looking him over approvingly.
"Nothing like clean clothes, and them is becoming."

Nat went near her so he could carry on conversation without delaying
the dinner preparations.

"That spring suit," he said laughing, "I'll just throw down on the
rubbish heap. The clothes are so covered with mud, I am sure they
never could be cleaned, and if Sam will have time to get in town before
the picnic perhaps he can sell me these things. Or, if not, I'll buy
whatever he wants and send them out."

"Well, he won'