u comes
from? 'Tis likely you gets plenty of deer's meat?"

"Beef, and lamb, and veal, and pork, but I don't care much for pork,
except bacon," said Charley.

"Well, now! In all my days I never tastes beef or lamb or veal! We gets
pickled pork at the post, and 'tis wonderful fine meat _I_ thinks. If
beef and lamb and veal be better than pork, I'd like to try un once.
_They_ must be a rare treat." Skipper Zeb smacked his lips. "Yes, sir,
I'd like to try un once! And does you hunt un?"

"No," Charley smiled, "the animals are raised on farms and the meat is
sold at stores."

"Well, now! What wonderful things goes on in the world, and we never
knows about un down here on The Labrador." Skipper Zeb shook his head in
astonishment. "Does you mark that, Sophia? They raises the animals and
then kills un, and sells the meat at the tradin' stores!"

"'Tis a queer way," admitted Mrs. Twig.

"'Tis a fine way!" enthused Skipper Twig. "Twould be fine if we could
raise deer and kill un when we wants un."

"Here's sweetenin' for your tea," and Toby, observing that Charley had
not helped himself, passed the molasses.

"Thank you," Charley accepted, putting a spoonful of the molasses into
his tea, and wondering why it was used instead of sugar, but venturing
no question. Had he asked, Skipper Zeb would have told him that it was
much less expensive than sugar, and that sugar was a luxury they could
not afford.

There were no vegetables, for on the Labrador coast the summers are too
short and too cold to grow them, and not one of the Twig family had ever
so much as tasted a potato or an onion or a tomato, or, indeed, any of
the wholesome vegetables that we, in our kindlier land, have so
plentifully, and accept as a matter of course. But Charley and the
Twigs, old and young, found the stewed bear's meat, with Mrs. Twig's
light, fluffy dumplings and the good bread and molasses, both satisfying
and appetizing; and when Charley declined a third helping, urged upon
him by Skipper Zeb, he declared that he was as full as though he had
eaten a Christmas dinner.

When all were finished, Skipper Zeb bowed his head and gave thanks for
the bountiful meal; and then, with Toby's assistance, drew the benches
and chests back to the wall.

"Set down, now, and when I lights my pipe we'll talk over this fix
you're gettin' in," said Skipper Zeb. Drawing a pipe and a plug of black
tobacco and a jack-knife from his pocket, he shaved some of the plu