"Down cellar!" repeated his uncle, with a look of alarm which didn't
escape his nephew. "What for?"

"In search of something to eat. All I could find in the closet was a dry
loaf, which doesn't look very appetizing."

"There's nothing down cellar. Don't go there again," said the old man,
still uneasy.

His nephew looked at him shrewdly.

"Ha, Uncle Paul! I've guessed your secret so quick," he said to himself.
"Some of your money is hidden away in the cellar, I'm thinking."

"Where do you keep your provisions, then?" he said aloud.

"The loaf is all I have."

"Come, Uncle Paul, you don't mean that. That's a scurvy welcome to give
a nephew you haven't seen for eighteen years. I'm going to stay to
dinner with you, and you must give me something better than that.
Haven't you got any meat in the house?"

"No."

Just then Ben Haley, looking from the window, saw some chickens in the
yard. His eye lighted up at the discovery.

"Ah, there is a nice fat chicken," he said. "We'll have a chicken
dinner. Shall it be roast or boiled?"