wn to see the cook's red face
gazing up at us.

"Eh? what say?" said Mercer, leaning out.

"Hush! be quiet. All at breakfast. Got any string?"

"Yes. Oh, I know," cried Mercer joyfully, and he ran to his box and
from the bottom dragged out a stick of kite string, whose end he rapidly
lowered down to where cook stood, holding something under her apron.

This proved to be a little basket with a cross handle when she whisked
her apron off, and, quickly tying the end of the string to it, she stood
watching till the basket had reached our hands, and then hurried away
round the end of the house.

"Oh, isn't she a good one!" cried Mercer, tearing open the lid, after
snapping the string and pitching the ball quickly into the box. "Look
here; four eggs, bread and butter--lots, and a bottle of milk--no," he
continued, taking out the cork and smelling, "it's coffee. Hooray!"

"What's that in the bit of curl paper?" and I pointed to something
twisted up.

"Salt," cried Mercer, "for the eggs. Come on, eat as fast as you can."

I took a piece of bread and butter, and he another, eating away as he
poured out two mugfuls of what proved to be delicious coffee.

"Who says we haven't got any friends?" cried Mercer, with his mouth
full. "What lots of butter. 'Tis good. I say, wonder what old Rebble
would say if he knew! Have an egg."

"No spoons."

"Bet a penny they're hard ones."

So it proved, and we cracked them well all over, peeled off the shells,
which for secrecy we thrust into our pockets, and then, dipping the eggs
into the salt, we soon finished one each, with the corresponding
proportion of bread and butter. Then the other two followed, the last
slice of bread and butter disappeared, and the wine-bottle was drained.
It was an abundant supply, but at our age the time consumed over the
meal was not lengthy, and we then busied ourselves in rinsing out the
bottle, which was hidden in my box, after being carefully wiped on a
towel, the basket was placed in Mercer's, and as soon as the last sign
of our banquet had disappeared, we looked at the two hunches of bread,
of which mine alone had been tasted, and burst into a laugh.

"I don't want any--do you?" said Mercer, and I shook my head. "Oh, I do
feel so much better! I can take the Doctor's licking now, and hope it
will come soon."

"I don't," I said.

"Why not? It's like nasty physic. Of course you don't like it, but the
sooner you've swallowed it do