Bert availed himself of the invitation, and helped himself to a potato in that condition known as soggy. He tried to eat it, but, though fond of potatoes, he left it almost entire on his plate. This, however, was not all. There was a plate of rye-bread on the table, from which Bert helped himself to a slice. It was apparently two or three days old, and needed something to make it palatable. "Please give me some butter," asked Bert, not having observed that this was a prohibited article on the Wilsons' dinner table. "There ain't none," answered Mrs. Wilson promptly. "I beg pardon. I hadn't noticed," said Bert, blushing. "We never have butter at dinner," explained Silas Wilson. "It's apt to lead to humors, particularly in boys, isn't it, Mis' Wilson?" "So I've always heard, Silas. Besides, as we have it at breakfast and supper, that's enough. It goes fast enough, even then. Why, we used most a pound last week." "And butter twenty-seven cents a pound!" chimed in the farmer. "Why, it's extravagant!" "Do you know, Silas, how much butter is used in Squire Marlowe's family?" "No," answered the farmer, with interest. "Hannah--Mrs. Marlowe's girl--told me they used six pounds and a half last week, and there's only four of them, including the girl. What do you think of that?" "What do I think? I think it's sinful--positively sinful! Six pounds and a half at twenty-seven cents----" "They pay thirty-two, and get the best in the market," amended his wife. "Worse and worse! That comes to what--Bert?" "Two dollars and eight cents," answered Bert promptly. "Sho! Did you ever?" "Well, I s'pose the squire can stand it. No doubt they live on the fat of the land. I just wish they'd invite me to tea, so I could judge for myself. I could tell within five cents how much the supper cost." It must be confessed that Bert did not enjoy his dinner. The sausage was far from rich or juicy, and the beans were almost cold. The potatoes and bread have already been referred to. However, there was to be a second course, and to that Bert looked forward anxiously, for he had by no means satisfied his appetite. It was a plain rice pudding, and partially satisfactory, for it takes very little skill to boil rice, and there is little variety in the quality. By way of sauce Mrs. Wilson provided cheap grade of molasses. Still Bert enjoyed it better than any other article on the table. "There's nothing like a good dinner to strengthen us for the labors of the field," said Silas Wilson complacently, as he rose from the table. "Come, Bert, now let us get to work to make up for lost time." "So Mr. Wilson considers the time spent in eating as lost time," thought Bert. "I'd rather have one of mother's dinners than half a dozen like this. Ugh! how nasty those potatoes were." Bert returned to the field, and resumed his work. He found it hard to keep up with Silas Wilson, whose energies seemed to be quickened by his midday meal.