He wrapped me in his coat and went into the back room and built a fire
in a small stove and brought me in and set me down beside it. He made
some porridge in a kettle while I sat holding my little hands over the
stove to warm them, and a sense of comfort grew in me. Soon a boy came
bringing a small pail of fresh milk and a loaf of bread. I remember how
curiously the boy eyed me as he said to my new friend:

"Captain Moody wants to know if you'll come up to dinner?"

There was a note of dignity in the reply which was new to me, and for
that reason probably I have always remembered it.

"Please present my thanks to the Captain and tell him that I expect to
go up to Lickitysplit in the town of Ballybeen."

He dipped some porridge into bowls and put them on a small table. My
eyes had watched him with growing interest and I got to the table about
as soon as the porridge and mounted a chair and seized a spoon.

"One moment, Bart," said my host. "By jingo! We've forgotten to wash,
and your face looks like the dry bed of a river. Come here a minute."

He led me out of the back door, where there were a wash-stand and a pail
and a tin basin and a dish of soft soap. He dipped the pail in a rain
barrel and filled the basin, and I washed myself and waited not upon my
host, but made for the table and began to eat, being very hungry, after
hastily drying my face on a towel. In a minute he came and sat down to
his own porridge and bread and butter.

"Bart, don't dig so fast," said he. "You're down to hard pan now. Never