He'll be home by and by," comforted Jill.
"He's gone pot-boiling." "Pot-boiling! What's that ?" Jill chuckled.
"Well, you see, really it's this way: he sells something to boil in other people's pots so he can have something to boil in ours, he says.
It's stuff from the garden, you know.

We raise it to sell.

Poor Jack--and he does hate it so!" David nodded sympathetically.
"I know--and it must be awful, just hoeing and weeding all the time." "Still, of course he knows he's got to do it, because it's out of doors, and he just has to be out of doors all he can," rejoined the girl.

"He's sick, you know, and sometimes he's so unhappy! He doesn't say much.

Jack never says much--only with his face.