The boy made an inarticulate sound of satisfaction, and resolved in his
heart to tell her what Mr. Hubbard had said.

"She's as smart as time," continued Bartley.

This was something concrete. The boy knew he should remember that
comparison. "Bring you anything else?" he asked, admiring the young man's
skill in getting the last flakes of the crust on his fork. The pie had now
vanished.

"Why, there isn't anything else, is there?" Bartley demanded, with the
plaintive dismay of a man who fears he has flung away his hunger upon one
dish when he might have had something better.

"Cheese," replied the boy.

"Oh!" said Bartley. He reflected awhile. "I suppose I could toast a piece
on this fork. But there isn't any more milk."

The boy took away the plate and goblet, and brought them again replenished.

Bartley contrived to get the cheese on his fork and rest it against one of
the andirons so that it would not fall into the ashes. When it was done, he
ate it as he had eaten the pie, without offering to share his feast with
the boy. "There'" he said. "Yes, Andy, if she keeps on as she's been doing,
she won't have any trouble. She's a bright girl." He stretched his legs
before the fire again, and presently yawned.

"Want your lamp, Mr. Hubbard?" asked the boy.