tried to bar his way by leaping up on him beseechingly as he hurried into the kitchen. Ah! the first objects that might well have met his eye he had not noticed before—three loaves of tempting bread set on the high shelves, a pound-cake, and a cooked ham, partly cut. But he would not stretch his hand toward them till Gerald was in that room to eat with him. He left the house and hastened back to the gate, giving loud whistle-calls for Gerald's encouragement.
He found the boy just entering the yard, impatient, faint, and anxious.
"I was afraid something had happened," he exclaimed. "Well? Will they take us in? What kind of people are they, Philip?"
"I don't know, Gerald. The fact is, I can find plenty of house and food and beds, but not a single soul to hear us say, 'By your leave,' if we help ourselves. So I've made up my mind we must just do that—help ourselves."
"What do you mean?" asked Gerald in distressed surprise.
Touchtone made his explanation as brief and cheering as he could. And really, after
