"There's a place to wash your hands, if you think it's wuth while. I don't often, but I hope there's few like me," said the busy host, lifting the frying-pan from some coals, and emptying from it a generous slice of ham and three or four eggs on a platter. "I like your open fire-place," said Haldane, looking curiously around the hermitage as he performed his ablutions. "That's a nuther of my weaknesses. I know a stove would be more convenient and economical, but I hate all improvements." "One would think, from what you said, your cat and dog had a hard time of it; but two more sleek, fat, and lazy animals I never saw." "No thanks to me. I s'pose they've got clear consciences." As the table began to fairly groan with good things, Haldane said: "Look here, Mr. Growther, are you in the habit of giving disreputable people such a dinner as that?" "If it's good enough for me, it's good enough for you," was the tart reply. "O, I'm not finding fault; I only wanted you to know that I would be grateful for much less." "I'm not doin' it to please you, but to spite myself." "Have your own way, of course," said Haldane, laughing: "it's a little odd, though, that your spite against yourself should mean so much practical kindness to me." "Hold on!" cried his host, as Haldane was about to attack the viands; "ain't you goin' to say grace?" "Well," said the young man, somewhat embarrassed, "I would rather you would say it for me." "I might as well eat your dinner for you." "Mr. Growther, you are an unusually honest man, and I think a kind one; so I am not going to act out any lies before you. Although your dinner is the best one I have seen for many a long day, or am likely to see, yet, to tell you the truth, I could swear over it easier than I could pray over it." "A-a-h! that's the right spirit; that's the way I ought to feel. Now you see what a mean hypocrite I am. I'm no Christian--far from it--and yet I always have a sneakin' wish to say grace over my victuals. As if it would do anybody any good! If I'd jest swear over 'em, as you say, then I would be consistent." "Are you in earnest in all this strange talk?" "Yes, I am; I hate myself." "Why?" "Because I know all about myself. A-a-h!" "How many poor, hungry people have you fed since the year opened?" "Your question shows me jest what I am. I could tell you within three or four. I found myself a-countin' of 'em up and a-gloryin' in it all the tother night, takin' credit to myself for givin' away a few victuals after I had had plenty myself. Think of a man gittin' self-righteous over givin' to some poor fellow-critters what he couldn't eat himself! If that ain't meanness, what is it? A-a-h!" "But you haven't told me how many you have fed." "No, and I ain't a-goin' to--jest to spite myself. I want to tell you, and to take credit for it, but I'll head myself off this time." "But you could eat these things which you are serving to me--if not to-day, why, then to-morrow."