The old woman cautioned him against using too much tea. There must be at
least three drawings left, and it would be a long time, perhaps, before
she got any more. Yes, there was a little mite of sugar in a paper on
the table.

"There's some bread there, too--half a loaf 'most--but I guess it's
pretty dry. You don't know how to make toast I 'spose," she added,
wistfully.

Courtland had never made toast in his life. He abominated it. She told
him how to hold it up on a fork in front of the coals and he managed to
do two very creditable slices. He had forgotten his own supper now.
There was something quite fresh and original in the whole experience. It
would have been interesting to have told the boys, if there weren't some
features about it that were almost sacred. He wondered what the gang
would say when he told them about Wittemore! Poor Wittemore! He wasn't
as nutty as they had thought! He had good in his heart! Courtland poured
the tea, but the sugar-paper had proved quite empty when he found it;
likewise a plate that had once contained butter.

The toast and tea, however, seemed to be quite acceptable without its
usual accessories. "Now," he said, with a long breath, "is there
anything else you'd like done before I go?--for I must be getting back
to college."

"If you just wouldn't mind makin' a prayer before you go," responded the
little old woman, wistfully, her feeble chin trembling with her
boldness. "I be'n wantin' a prayer this long while, but I don't seem to
have good luck. The distric' nurse, she ain't the prayin' kind; an' Mr.