And by twelve o'clock we'll be in Richmond--where they have good things to eat.
So there you are--all mapped out.

Only now we'll have a belt supper." "A belt supper ?" queried the child curiously, though her face brightened at the thought of _any_ kind of supper, made out of belts or any other thing.
"Um-hum," asseverated her father gravely.

"See--this is the way it's done." He cupped his hands and took a draught from the spring, pretending to chew it as it went down.

"You take a big drink of nice cold water; then draw up your belt as tight as you can--and say your prayers." To his surprise his small daughter only sniffed scornfully.
"Oh, shucks, Daddy! I know a better way than that.

Susan an' me used to do it all the time while you were away." "What did you do ?" he asked curiously, for he had forgotten that more than half the childish play world is the world of "make believe.'" "Why, we--we just '_let on_,'" she answered, with simple naivete.