"Mother always lets me put a bit o' somethin' in my pocket." He picked up his coat from the grass and brought out of a pocket a lumpy little bundle tied up in a quite clean, coarse, blue and white handkerchief.

It held two thick pieces of bread with a slice of something laid between them.
"It's oftenest naught but bread," he said, "but I've got a fine slice o' fat bacon with it today." Mary thought it looked a queer dinner, but he seemed ready to enjoy it.
"Run on an' get thy victuals," he said.

"I'll be done with mine first.
I'll get some more work done before I start back home." He sat down with his back against a tree.
"I'll call th' robin up," he said, "and give him th' rind o' th' bacon to peck at.

They likes a bit o' fat wonderful." Mary could scarcely bear to leave him.

Suddenly it seemed as if he might be a sort of wood fairy who might be gone when she came into the garden again.