as Doug's.

He looked up. "What do you mean by coming in at this hour, you young
hound?"

"I think I might have Sunday afternoon to myself," said Douglas sulkily.

"So do I. But that don't mean you are to have all Sunday night, too. Did
you feed the calves?"

"Yes."

"Next Sunday you be here by five o'clock, understand?"

"Yes."

"Supper's ready!" called Judith.

The table was covered by a red-checked cloth. A huge platter of fried
beef, another of fried potatoes, another of baking-powder biscuits, and a
pot of coffee steamed on the table. John did not speak until his first
hunger had been satisfied. When he received his second cup of coffee,
however, he said, "Well, my tooth's better. What happened this afternoon,
children?"

Judith did not reply, but Douglas, with a chuckle, told the story of Mr.
Fowler's discomfiture. John and Mary shouted with laughter.

"By old Sitting Bull, it serves him right!" John wiped his eyes. "What
became of him?"