"
Dad one day sold "Dummy" for ten shillings and bought a goat, which
Johnson shot on his cultivation and made Dad drag away.
CHAPTER XXI.
The Parson and the Scone.
It was dinner-time. And were n't we hungry!--particularly Joe! He was
kept from school that day to fork up hay-work hard enough for a man--too
hard for some men--but in many things Joe was more than a man's equal.
Eating was one of them. We were all silent. Joe ate ravenously. The
meat and pumpkin disappeared, and the pile of hot scones grew rapidly
less. Joe regarded it with anxiety. He stole sly glances at Dad and at
Dave and made a mental calculation. Then he fixed his eyes longingly on
the one remaining scone, and ate faster and faster....Still silence.
Joe glanced again at Dad.
The dogs outside barked. Those inside, lying full-stretch beneath the
table, instantly darted up and rushed out. One of them carried off little
Bill--who was standing at the table with his legs spread out and a pint
of tea in his hand--as far as the door on its back, and there scraped him
off and spilled tea over him. Dad spoke. He said, "Damn the dogs!" Then
he rose and looked out the window.
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