"I have eaten more than one dinner at the Gayoso House, in Memphis--and it is one of the best hotels in the country--when corn-bread and butter-milk were down in the bill of fare as part of the dessert." "Well, if all the folks who stop at that hotel had to live on it, as we do, they would call for something else," replied David.

"How am I to settle Silas Jones's bill, I'd like to know ?" "Never mind Silas Jones's bill.

If he says anything more to you about it, tell him that you don't owe him a cent." "And how am I to send my quails away?
That man said the charges must be paid." "Ah! that's a more serious matter," said Don, placing his hands on his hips, and looking down at the floor.
"It is all serious to me," said David, brushing the tears from his eyes, "but I'll work through somehow.

I'll go home now and think about it, and if I don't earn that money in spite of all my bad luck, it will not be because I don't try." "That's the way to talk," said Don, giving David an encouraging slap on the back.

"That's the sort of spirit I like.