might try and teach him."

"Tell me," said Pats, "why hens should lay nothing but eggs, always
eggs? Why shouldn't they lay pears, lemons, tomatoes,--things we really
need?"

In silence the lady continued her work.

"Angel Cook?"

"Well?"

"What do you think?"

"I think, considering your years, that your conversation is surprising.
Eggs are very nourishing, and we are lucky to have them. Didn't I make
you a nice omelette only a few days ago?"

"You did, and I never knew a better for its purpose. I still use it for
cleaning the windows."

"Really! Well, you had better make it last, for you won't get another."

"Oh, don't be angry! I thought you meant it as a keepsake."

He approached with repentant air, but when threatened with her doughy
hands, he retreated, and sat on the big chest by the window. This chest
had served for his bed since his convalescence.

Elinor frowned, and pointed to the fire. Pats arose and laid on a fresh
stick, then knelt upon the hearth and, with a seventeenth-century
bellows, inlaid with silver, that would have graced the drawing-room of
a palace, he coaxed the fire into a more active life.

"Now go out and bring in some wood. More small sticks. Not the big
ones."

[Illustration]

XII

THE WOLF AT THE DOOR

During dinner, which occurred at noon, there were fewer words that day,
and with somewhat more reflection than was usual. The store of
provisions now rapidly disappearing, together with no prospect of
immediate escape, furnished rich material for thought. Both knew the
raft might prove a treacherous reliance. Instead of landing them on the
opposite bank of the river there were excellent chances of its carrying
them out to sea. And the prevailing westerly wind was almost sure to
drive them backward to the east again. Pats had been all over this so
many times in his own mind, and with Elinor, that the subject was pretty
well exhausted. But still, from habit, he speculated.

"A penny for your thoughts."

He raised his eyes, and as they met her own his habitual cheerfulness
returned. "My thoughts are worth more than that, for I was thinking of
you."

"Something bad?"

"I was wondering how many days you could foot it through the wilderness
before giving out."

"For ever, little Patsy, if you were with me."

"Then we have nothing to fear. We can both march on for ever. You are
not only food and drink to me,--that is, the equivalent of corncake,
potatoes, mar