words could have been.

"We have missed you so, John. We have wanted you so much. Lucy and Kate
and Deby were so bad yesterday, and they did cry so for you. We were all
so hungry. We don't mind so much, when you are here to talk to us and
tell us stories. Why did you stop away, John, when we wanted you so?"

"I went away to see if I could manage to get you something to eat."

"And did you?" was the anxious cry.

"I have got a little; but you must wait till evening, and then you will
each have--" and he stopped.

"What, John? Oh, do tell us!"

"You will each have some milk and bread.

"Not much, dears," he went on, as there was a cry of gladness, which was
pitiful from the intensity of joy it expressed, "but there will be some
for tonight, and a little curds and whey and bread for you tomorrow and
next day, and I hope always, as long as this lasts. Now go, dears, into
your castle. I will come to you presently. I have brought you some water,
as usual."

"I am heartily glad to see you back, John," his cousin said, as he
entered the house. "The children were in a sad state without you,
yesterday. I suppose you can tell me, now, what you have been doing. You
told me you would be away two nights, and begged me not to ask any
questions; but, although I know you to be discreet and prudent, I have