it out of the brine. Well, I'll see what they have for dinner before I make up my mind any further."
The meal, though plain, was good, and to a boy with Dick's appetite, nothing came amiss. But it was small pleasure to dine when two pair of eyes were almost constantly watching him.
"Don't get any of the gravy on the table cloth," cautioned Mrs. Larabee. "It was clean this week, and I don't want to have to put another one on before Sunday."
Dick felt a guilty flush come over his face as he saw that he had dropped a small piece of butter on the cloth. But he thought it wisest to say nothing.
"Aren't you going to eat that crust of bread?" asked his uncle, as Dick laid aside a portion that was burned black.
"It's a little too—too brown," replied the boy, who did not fancy burned bread.
"That makes it all the better," said Mr. Larabee. "Bread should be well cooked to be digestible. Always eat your crusts. 'Sinful waste makes woeful want,' as the proverb says. I had to eat my crusts when I was young."
Dick managed to get it down, and the meal finally came to a close. He felt considerably better after it, and when his uncle proposed a walk around the place, he was ready to accompany Mr. Larabee.
Dick found much to admire in the well-kept
