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“I had Amanda bake an apple pudding,” she informed him presently, when his appetite began to languish. “I guess boys usually like something sweet to top off with. Do you eat apple pudding?”

“Yes, Aunt. Most any kind of pudding. But don’t you—don’t you go to any trouble about me, please. I—I can eat whatever there is. I’ve got a fine old appetite.”

“Hmph! Well, I guess you won’t go hungry here. Not that I intend to have things much different from usual, though. I don’t hold with humouring folks’ notions about food. Food is food, I say, so long’s it’s nourishing and decently cooked. Your mother, though, was always a great one for strange, outlandish dishes and I suppose you’ll miss ’em. Well, all I can say is plain food’s what I was brought up on and I’ve never seen anyone hurt none by eatin’ it. I’ve noticed that folks who like messed-up dishes generally have dyspepsia and are always doctoring themselves. Amanda, bring in the pudding.”

Aunt Sarah seemed slightly surprised when, the apple pudding partaken of, Joe announced that he thought he’d go and have a look around town. “Well,” she said, “you’re old enough to look after yourself, I suppose, but for goodness’ sake, don’t go and get run over or anything! Main Street’s getting to be something awful, what with these automobiles and all. Seems like a body just has to take his life in his hands when he goes there nowadays. If those awful things don’t run you down they scare you to death, and if they can’t do any worse to you they spatter you with mud. Gracious sakes, I haven’t dared shop on the other side of Main Street for ’most a year!”