At a large table one of the missionaries of the Institute cut up and buttered loaves at a rate which gave the impression that he was a conjurer engaged in a species of sleight-of-hand. The butter, however, troubled him, for, the weather being cold, it was hard, and would not spread easily. To overcome this he put a pound or so of it on a plate beside the boiler-fire to soften. Unfortunately, he temporarily forgot it, and on afterwards going for it, found that it had been reduced to a yellow liquid. However, hungry soldiers, rejoicing in the fact of having at last reached home, are not particular. Some of them, unaccustomed, no doubt, to be served by ladies, asked for their supply deferentially, accepted it politely, and drank it with additional appreciation. "We want more, Brown," said one of the ladies, glancing back over her shoulder as she poured out the last drop from her large jug; "and more buns and bread, please." "Here you are, Miss," cried Brown, who was warm by that time in spite of the weather, as he bore his brimming and steaming pitcher to the window--or hole in the wall--and replenished the jugs. "The buns are all done, an' the bread won't hold out long, but I've sent for more; it won't be long. I see we shall need several more brews," he added, as he turned again towards the inexhaustible boiler. "Shall I assist you?" said Miles, stepping into the shed and seizing a loaf and a knife. "Thank you. Go ahead," said Brown. "Put another lump of butter near the fire," said the missionary to our hero; "not too close. I melted the last lump altogether." "A cup o' coffee for my Terence, an' wan for mesilf, my dear," exclaimed a loud voice outside. There was no mistaking the speaker. Some of the men who crowded round the counter laughed, others partially choked, when the strapping Terence said in a hoarse whisper, "Whist, mother, be civil; don't ye see that it's ladies, no less, is sarvin' of us?" "Please, ma'am, can I 'ave some coffee?" asked a modest soldier's wife, who looked pale and weary after the long voyage, with three children to look after. A cup was promptly supplied, and three of the newly-arrived buns stopped the mouths of her clamorous offspring. "Can ye give me a cup o' tea?" demanded another soldier's wife, who was neither so polite nor so young as the previous applicant. It is probable that the ladies did not observe the nature of her demand, else they would doubtless have explained that they had no tea, but a cup of coffee was silently handed to her. "Ah! this is _real_ home-tea, this is," she said, smacking her lips after the first sip. "A mighty difference 'tween this an' what we've bin used to in the ship."