"Yes, jest little shavers," said ma, softly. "They hadn't got where I
couldn't make over 'em an' tuck 'em in nights, when they was took away--
all in one week. You wouldn't have thought 'twould have be'n all in one
week--three boys--would you? Not three! I tell pa the Lord didn't give
us time enough to bid 'em all good-by. It takes so long to give up
three!"

Old Tilly and the others stood by in odd embarrassment. Jot was bothered
with a strange sensation in his throat.

But the old lady's sorrowing face brightened presently. She bustled
about the room busily, getting out chairs and setting straight things
crooked in her zeal.

"I guess you're hungry, ain't you? Boys always is--an' three boys!
Dear! how hungry three boys can be! I'm goin' out to get supper. Pa,
you must do the entertainin'."

The bread was "just like mother's"--white with a delicious crust--and
the butter yellow as gold, and Jot helped himself plentifully. "Ma,"
behind the tea urn, watched him with a beaming face.

"That's right!--I love to see boys eat! I tell pa sometimes I can just
see our three boys settin' at this table eatin' one of ma's good meals
o' victuals. You must have some of this custard, Joey." A faint
essence of added tenderness crept into the wistful old voice at that
name. The boys knew that Joey had been the little old lady's baby.

"Joey was a great hand for custard. Joey was a master hearty boy."