She was all in a flutter. Nobody had ever said so much to her before.

His tone changed. "I am getting middling hungry, though. Had no
breakfast to-day. Couldn't you scare up some bread from that tea for me,
or--"

She was gone already. He had been on the point of asking her to let him
come inside. No matter. Anywhere would do. Devil of a fix! What would
his chum think?

"I didn't ask you as a beggar," he said, jestingly, taking a piece
of bread-and-butter from the plate she held before him. "I asked as a
friend. My dad is rich, you know."

"He starves himself for your sake."

"And I have starved for his whim," he said, taking up another piece.

"All he has in the world is for you," she pleaded.

"Yes, if I come here to sit on it like a dam' toad in a hole. Thank you;
and what about the shovel, eh? He always had a queer way of showing his
love."

"I could bring him round in a week," she suggested, timidly.

He was too hungry to answer her; and, holding the plate submissively to
his hand, she began to whisper up to him in a quick, panting voice.
He listened, amazed, eating slower and slower, till at last his jaws