te sure he must be very hungry.

"I never thought of that!" cried Hildegarde, remorsefully. "When did you
have breakfast, and have you had anything to eat since?"

Bubble had had breakfast at half-past six, and had had nothing since.
The girls were horrified.

"Come into the kitchen this minute!" said Martha, imperatively. So he
did; and the next minute he was looking upon cold beef and johnny-cake
and apple-pie, and a pile of doughnuts over which he could hardly see
Martha's anxious face as she asked if he thought that would stay him
till dinner. "For boys are boys!" she added, impressively, turning to
Hildegarde; "and girls they are not, nor won't be."

When he had eaten all that even a hungry boy could possibly eat, Bubble
was carried off to be introduced to Miss Wealthy. She, too, was
delighted to see him, and made him more than welcome; and when he spoke
of staying a day or two in the neighborhood, and asked if he could get a
room nearer than the village, she was quite severe with him, forbade him
to mention the subject again, and sent Martha to show him the little
room in the ell, where she said he could be comfortable, and the longer
he stayed the better. It was the neatest, cosiest little room, just big
enough for a boy, the girls said with delight, when they went to inspect
it. The walls were painted bright blue, which had rather a peculiar
effect; but Martha explained that Jeremiah had half a pot of blue paint
left after painting the wheelbarrow and the pails, and thought he might
as well use it up. Apparently the half pot gave out before Jeremiah came
to the chairs, for one of them was yellow, while the other had red legs
and a white seat and back. But the whole effect was very cheerful and
pleasant, and Bubble was enchanted.

The girls left him to wash his face and hands, and brush the roadside
dust from his clothes. As he was plunging his face into the cool,
sparkling water in the blue china basin, he heard a small but decided
voice addressing him; and looking up, became aware of a person in kilts
standing in the doorway and surveying him with manifest disapprobation.

"Hello, young un!" said Bubble, cheerily. "How goes the world with you?"

"Vat basin ain't your basin!" responded the person in kilts, with great
severity.

Bubble looked from him to the basin, and back again, with amused
perplexity. "Oh! it isn't, eh?" he said. "Well, that's a pity, isn't
it?"

"Vis room ain't your room!" continued