t thy
gallowses so fiercely. It's only my way. 'Sarah has a playful way with
her': my father used to say that, an' it's kept by me. I don't feel a
day older than when--Andrew!" sharply, "did thee bring thy lunch, to eat
at my stall? The coffee'll be strong as lye this morning."

The Quaker, Jane, had a small white basket in her hand, into which she
was looking.

"It's here," she said, putting it by the young man's feet. "There's ham
an' bread an' pie,--plum,--enough for two. Thee'll not want to eat
alone?" anxiously.

"I never do," he said, gruffly. "The old buster's savage on
pie,--gettin' fat on it, I tell you, Jane, though his jaws are like
nut-crackers yet."

Andy had dropped into one of the few ruts of talk in which his brain
could jog easily along; he began, as usual, to rub the knees of his
trousers smooth, and to turn the quid of tobacco in his mouth.

Jane, oddly enough, did not remind him that it was time to go, but
stood, not heeding him, leaning on the wheel, drawing a buckle in the
harness tighter.

"He! he!" giggled Andy, "if you'd seen him munch the pastry an' biscuit,
an' our biggest cuts of tenderloin, an' then plank down his pennies to
Mis' Wart here, thinkin' he'd paid for all! Innocent as a staggerin'
calf, that old chap! Says I to him last week, when we were leavin' the
market, havin' my joke, says I,--

"'Pervisions is goin' down, Mr. Starke.'

"'It hadn't occurred to me, Andrew,' he says, in his dazed way. 'But you
know, doubtless,' says he, with one of his queer bows, touchin' the
banged old felt he sticks on the back of his head.

"'Yes, I know,' says I. An' I took his hand an' pulled it through my
arm, an' we walked down to Arch. Dunno what the girls thought, seein' me
in sech ragged company. Don't care. He's a brick, old Joe.

"Says he, 'Ef I hed hed your practical knowledge, at your age, Andrew,
it might hev been better for the cause of science this day,' an'
buttons up his coat.

"'Pears as if he wasn't used to wearin' shirts, an' so hed got that
trick o' buttonin' up. But he has a appreciatin' eye, he has,--more than
th' common,--much more." And Andy crossed his legs, and looked down, and
coughed in a modest, deprecating way.

"Well," finding no one spoke, "I've found that meal, sure enough, is his
breakfast, dinner, an' supper. I calls it luncheon to him, in a easy,
gentlemanly sort of way. I believe I never mentioned to you," looking at
Jane, "how I smuggled him into the p