It was a pleasant, happy little coterie, that which sat down at the table soon afterwards to enjoy one of Mrs. Fairbanks' famous meals.
"I'm ashamed!" declared Fred, after his seventh hot biscuit with freshly churned butter that made his mouth water, "but eating houses and hotels, Mrs. Fairbanks, make a roving, homeless fellow like me desperate, and if a third helping of that exquisite apple sauce isn't out of order, I'll have another small fish."
"I'm spoiled for regular cooking, Bessie," declared Fogg to his wife. "Mrs. Fairbanks is fattening us till we'll be of no use at all."
"You are all flatterers," said Mrs. Fairbanks warningly, but with a pleased smile.
"I'll take another piece of cake, ma'am, providing you'll promise me the little exercise of helping you wash the dishes afterwards," spoke Fred.
He interested the widow with his animated, interested talk as he bustled around the kitchen, wearing a big apron while drying the dishes. Then when this task was completed, he and Ralph went out to the little summer house and comfortably seated themselves.
"Now then," remarked the young railroader with a pleasant smile, "now for your confession, Fred."
