the moment. A Blentz soldier was running toward the prisoner

time:2023-11-28 17:58:51 author:ability

It was dinner-time. And were n't we hungry!--particularly Joe! He was kept from school that day to fork up hay-work hard enough for a man--too hard for some men--but in many things Joe was more than a man's equal. Eating was one of them. We were all silent. Joe ate ravenously. The meat and pumpkin disappeared, and the pile of hot scones grew rapidly less. Joe regarded it with anxiety. He stole sly glances at Dad and at Dave and made a mental calculation. Then he fixed his eyes longingly on the one remaining scone, and ate faster and faster....Still silence. Joe glanced again at Dad.

the moment. A Blentz soldier was running toward the prisoner

The dogs outside barked. Those inside, lying full-stretch beneath the table, instantly darted up and rushed out. One of them carried off little Bill--who was standing at the table with his legs spread out and a pint of tea in his hand--as far as the door on its back, and there scraped him off and spilled tea over him. Dad spoke. He said, "Damn the dogs!" Then he rose and looked out the window. We all rose--all except Joe. Joe reached for the last scone.

the moment. A Blentz soldier was running toward the prisoner

A horseman dismounted at the slip-rails.

the moment. A Blentz soldier was running toward the prisoner

"Some stranger," Dad muttered, turning to re-seat himself.

"Why, it's--it's the minister!" Sal cried--"the minister that married Kate!"

Dad nearly fell over. "Good God!" was all he said, and stared hopelessly at Mother. The minister--for sure enough it was the Rev. Daniel Macpherson--was coming in. There was commotion. Dave finished his tea at a gulp, put on his hat, and left by the back-door. Dad would have followed, but hesitated, and so was lost. Mother was restless--"on pins and needles."

"And there ain't a bite to offer him," she cried, dancing hysterically about the table--"not a bite; nor a plate, nor a knife, nor a fork to eat it with!" There was humour in Mother at times. It came from the father's side. He was a dentist.

Only Joe was unconcerned. He was employed on the last scone. He commenced it slowly. He wished it to last till night. His mouth opened and received it fondly. He buried his teeth in it and lingered lovingly over it. Mother's eyes happened to rest on him. Her face brightened. She flew at Joe and cried:


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