He made up his mind to eat less, but unfortunately it was not possible to carry out this brilliant idea when he wakened each morning with an amazing appetite and the table near his sofa was set with a breakfast of home-made bread and fresh butter, snow-white eggs, raspberry jam and clotted cream.  Mary always breakfasted with him and when they found themselves at the table—­particularly if there were delicate slices of sizzling ham sending forth tempting odors from under a hot silver cover—­they would look into each other’s eyes in desperation.

“I think we shall have to eat it all this morning, Mary,” Colin always ended by saying.  “We can send away some of the lunch and a great deal of the dinner.”

But they never found they could send away anything and the highly polished condition of the empty plates returned to the pantry awakened much comment.

“I do wish,” Colin would say also, “I do wish the slices of ham were thicker, and one muffin each is not enough for any one.”

“It’s enough for a person who is going to die,” answered Mary when first she heard this, “but it’s not enough for a person who is going to live.  I sometimes feel as if I could eat three when those nice fresh heather and gorse smells from the moor come pouring in at the open window.”

The morning that Dickon—­after they had been enjoying themselves in the garden for about two hours—­went behind a big rose-bush and brought forth two tin pails and revealed that one was full of rich new milk with cream on the top of it, and that the other held cottage-made currant buns folded in a clean blue and white napkin, buns so carefully tucked in that they were still hot, there was a riot of surprised joyfulness.  What a wonderful thing for Mrs. Sowerby to think of!  What a kind, clever woman she must be!  How good the buns were!  And what delicious fresh milk!

“Magic is in her just as it is in Dickon,” said Colin.  “It makes her think of ways to do things—­nice things.  She is a Magic person.  Tell her we are grateful, Dickon—­extremely grateful.”

He was given to using rather grown-up phrases at times.  He enjoyed them.  He liked this so much that he improved upon it.

“Tell her she has been most bounteous and our gratitude is extreme.”

And then forgetting his grandeur he fell to and stuffed himself with buns and drank milk out of the pail in copious draughts in the manner of any hungry little boy who had been taking unusual exercise and breathing in moorland air and whose breakfast was more than two hours behind him.

This was the beginning of many agreeable incidents of the same kind.  They actually awoke to the fact that as Mrs. Sowerby had fourteen people to provide food for she might not have enough to satisfy two extra appetites every day.  So they asked her to let them send some of their shillings to buy things.