r conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a bell from a
farmhouse within sight.

"That's our breakfast-bell," said John rising from the grass. "It is
meant for me. I suppose they wonder what keeps me so long. Won't you
come and take breakfast with me, Paul?"

"I guess not," said Paul, who would have been glad to do so had he
followed the promptings of his appetite. "I'm afraid your folks would
ask me questions, and then it would be found out that I am running
away."

"I didn't think of that," returned John, after a pause. "You haven't got
any dinner with you?" he said a moment after.

"No."

"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do. Come with me as far as the fence, and
lie down there till I've finished breakfast. Then I'll bring something
out for you, and maybe I'll walk along a little way with you."

"You are very kind," said Paul, gratefully.

"Oh, nonsense," said John, "that's nothing. Besides, you know we are
going to be friends."

"John! breakfast's ready."

"There's Nelson calling me," said John, hurriedly. "I must leave you;
there's the fence; lie down there, and I'll be back in a jiffy."

"John, I say, why don't you come?"

"I'm coming. You mustn't think everybody's got such a thundering great
appetite as you, Nelson."

"I guess you've got enough to keep you from pining away," said Nelson,
good-naturedly, "you're twice as fat as I am."

"That's because I work harder," said John, rather illogically.

The brothers went in to breakfast.

But a few minutes elapsed before John reappeared, bearing under his arm
a parcel wrapped up in an old newspaper. He came up panting with the
haste he had made.

"It didn't take you long to eat breakfast," said Paul.

"No, I hurried through it; I thought you would get tired of waiting. And
now I'll walk along with you a little ways. But wait here's something
for you."

So saying he unrolled the newspaper and displayed a loaf of bread,
fresh and warm, which looked particularly inviting to Paul, whose scanty
breakfast had by no means satisfied his appetite. Besides this, there
was a loaf of molasses ginger-bread, with which all who were born in the
country, or know anything of New England housekeeping, are familiar.

"There," said John, "I guess that'll be enough for your dinner."

"But how did you get it without having any questions asked?" inquired
our hero.

"Oh," said John, "I asked mother for them, and when she asked what I
wanted of them, I told her