“You stole it from him,” said the widow indignantly.

“What’s the odds if I did.  It ain’t of no value.  Come, haven’t you anything to eat in the house?  I’m hungry as a wolf.”

“And you look like one!” thought Mrs. Barclay, glancing at his unattractive features; but she did not dare to say it.

There seemed no way of refusing, and she was glad to comply with his request, if by so doing she could soon get rid of him.

“Stay here,” she said, “and I’ll bring you some bread and butter and cold meat.”

“Thank you, I’d rather come in,” said the tramp, and he pushed his way through the partly open door.

She led the way uneasily into the kitchen just in the rear of the sitting room where she had been seated.

“I wish Ben was here,” she said to herself, with sinking heart.

The tramp seated himself at the kitchen table, while Mrs. Barclay, going to the pantry, brought out part of a loaf of bread, and butter, and a few slices of cold beef, which she set before him.  Without ceremony he attacked the viands and ate as if half famished.  When about half through, he turned to the widow, and asked: 

“Haven’t you some whisky in the house?”

“I never keep any,” answered Mrs. Barclay.

“Rum or gin, then?” I ain’t partic’lar.  I want something to warm me up.”

“I keep no liquor of any kind.  I don’t approve of drink, or want Ben to touch it.”

“Oh, you belong to the cold water army, do you?” said the tramp with a sneer.  “Give me some coffee, then.”

“I have no fire, and cannot prepare any.”

“What have you got, then?” demanded than unwelcome guest impatiently.

“I can give you a glass of excellent well water.”

“[illegible] Do you want to choke me?” returned the tramp in disgust.

“Suppose I mix you some molasses and water,” suggested the widow, anxious to propitiate her dangerous guest.

“Humph!  Well, that will do, if you’ve got nothing better.  Be quick about it, for my throat is parched.”

As soon as possible the drink was prepared and set beside his plate.  He drained it at a draught, and called for a second glass, which was supplied him.  Presently, for all things must have an end, the tramp’s appetite seemed to be satisfied.  He threw himself back in his chair, stretched his legs, and, with his hands in his pockets, fixed his eyes on the widow.

“I feel better,” he said.

“I am glad to hear it,” said Mrs. Barclay.  “Now, if you’ll be kind enough, leave the house, for I expect Ben back before long.”

“And you don’t want him to get hurt,” laughed the tramp.  “Well, I do owe him a flogging for a trick he played on me.”

“Oh, pray, go away!” said Mrs. Barclay, apprehensively.  “I have given you some supper, and that ought to satisfy you.”

“I can’t go away till I’ve talked to you a little on business.”