I suspect--" "Henry," said the widow, again interrupting her exasperated son, "do you think your mother would do what is wrong ?" "Mother," exclaimed the youth, seizing her hand, and kissing her brow almost violently, "I would as soon think that the angels above would do wrong; but I firmly believe that you are suffering wrong to be done _to you_; and--just listen to the fellow! I do not believe he's howling for more bacon at this moment!" There could be no doubt whatever about the fact; for just then the deep tones of Gascoyne's voice rang through the cottage, as he reiterated the name of the widow, who hastened away, followed by her son.

Henry scarcely took the trouble to conceal the frown that darkened his brow as he re-entered the apartment where his companions were seated.
"Why, Mary, your bacon surpasses anything I have tasted for the last six months; let's have another rasher, like a good woman.

That mountain air sharpens the appetite amazingly; especially of men who are more accustomed to mount the rigging of a ship than the hills on shore.

What say you, John Bumpus ?" John Bumpus could not at that moment say anything, in consequence of his mouth being so full of the bacon referred to that there was no room for a single word to pass his lips.

In the height of his good-humor, however, he did his best by signs to express his entire approval of the widow's provender, and even _attempted_ to speak.