he satisfaction of thinking of
the joy of the little ones, when the milk and bread were served out to
them. As soon as the gates were open in the morning, he went in.

"Thank you, oh, so much, for the milk and bread last night. We heard how
you had swum so far, and gone into danger to get it for us, and we're
going to have some more for breakfast."

"It was not much, dears," John said.

"Oh, no, it was not much; but it was so nice, and we did all sleep so
well last night--even little Lucy didn't waken and cry once--and Ruth
Hardy said we ought to call you the Raven; but we don't like that name
for you."

"The Raven, Ruth!" John said, mystified. "Why did you want to call me the
Raven?"

"I wouldn't do it if you didn't like it, dear John; but you know that
chapter that Master Williams read us, the other day, about the ravens
that fed somebody in a cave, and we have been wishing the ravens would
feed us; and so you see, when you sent us the milk last night, I thought
you ought to be called the Raven. I did not mean any harm."

"No, my dear, of course not, and you can all call me the Raven, if you
like."

"No, no, John. You are John, and that's much better than the Raven. They
brought the man food, but they didn't nurse him and tell him stories, as
you do."

"Now, run inside the castle," John said, "and I will go in and get your
breakfasts."

John soon returned, with a great bowl of curds and whey, a platter piled
up with slices of bread and a score of little mugs, and the feast began.
Scarce a word was said while the children were eating. Their hunger was
too keen, and their enjoyment too intense, to admit of speech. When each
had finished their portion, there was a general exclamation.

"Oh, John, you haven't had any. Why didn't you have some, too?"

"Because there is only enough for you," he said. "If I were to have some,
and Cousin Josiah, and all the others, there would be a very little share
for you; besides, when I went out the day before yesterday, I had as much
as I could eat."

"Oh, dear, that must have been nice," one of the boys said. "Only think,
having as much as one can eat. Oh, how much I could eat, if I had it!"

"And yet I daresay, Tom," John said, "that sometimes, before you came
here, when you had as much as you could eat, you used to grumble if it
wasn't quite what you fancied."

"I shall never grumble again," the boy said positively. "I shall be
quite, quite content with potatoes, if