“Grub-pile!”
“’Tis heaven,” muttered Jimmy and came up to the porch. Pat Moore and
Bud Deal looked curiously at him, as the lamplight showed his homely
features. Jimmy smiled and removed his hat.
“Friends, it is not me mind that makes me a night intruder; because I
have a control over me own brain, but the stummick of me contains
nothin’ but a tiny brush-rabbit, half-cooked and unseasoned. Could ye
give me a bit to eat and a place to sleep?”
“Yore kinda off the beaten trails, ain’t yuh?” asked Bud Deal.
Jimmy knew that Bud Deal thought he was a common tramp.
“Aye; but the best of us get off wrong, pardner.”
“Come in,” said Pat kindly. “Can you eat ham and eggs?”
“Lord love ye!” gasped Jimmy. “I could that.”
The three of them walked into the dining-room, and Jimmy bowed low to
Mrs. Moore, who was just coming in with a platter of food.
“Mother, this man just walked in, and he said he was very hungry,”
stated Pat.