hat the chicken was done, and Mr. Grimstone, peering doubtfully into the
oven and even testing the fowl with a fork, grudgingly agreed. When the
old man was served and his portion cut up so that he could manage it
with a fork, Dale took his first taste with a little feeling of pride
in his culinary achievement.

It was really a very appetizing meal, and the scout enjoyed it as only
a healthy, hungry boy can. Mr. Grimstone made no comment one way or
another. Once or twice he mumbled his annoyance at having to have his
meat cut up for him by a boy, but the number of times that the process
was repeated and the relish with which he consumed everything in sight
was proof enough of his satisfaction in the unwonted fare.

As the curious meal proceeded to its conclusion he seemed almost to thaw
a little. His manner was still crabbed and his voice sharp. He scowled
a good deal, too, especially after some comment which might possibly be
taken as approaching the amiable. But in one way or another, both at
table and later while the dishes were being done up, he asked a good
many questions in his short, snappy fashion.

Dale answered them readily, vaguely sensing, perhaps, that under the
old man's surface crustiness lay a certain awkwardness at handling so
unaccustomed a situation. After all these years of bitter warfare against
boys it must be rather embarrassing, he thought, to treat one of them
with even an approach to civility. So when he had told his name, and
the troop he belonged to, and one or two other details the old man
asked about, Dale went on to explain a little about their scout work and
play, their weekly meetings and drill and other duties, their hikes and
week-end camping-trips.

The old man listened almost without comment. He seemed more curious
about the principle of the daily good turn, to which he reverted several
times, always with expressions of doubt and skepticism. The idea of
mere boys giving time and labor and sacrificing inclination and pleasure
without thought of reward was incredible to him.

"It ain't natural!" he declared at last. "Mebbe one or two might, but
not many. You can't tell me any other o' them young limbs in town would
of give up their holiday to tote a basket o' truck out here an' cook it."

"Oh, yes, they would!" protested the boy, loyally, "if they'd thought
of it."

"Humph!" grunted the old man. "They didn't happen to, though."

"One was enough, wasn't it?" smiled the boy. "You