Now Bert remembered that eight years before, the farmer's son, a man grown, had left Lakeville, and, so far as he knew, had not been heard of since. He had contracted a habit of drinking and had tired of farm work. Moreover, when he left, he had taken fifty dollars of his father's money with him, which had led to bitter feelings on the part of the farmer, who appeared to mourn the loss of his money more than that of his son. And this was the young man who had crept into his father's house like a thief in the night. "Why did you get into my window?" asked Bert. "Why didn't you come to the door?" "I--didn't know if I would be welcome. I wanted to ask. Do you know how my father feels toward me?" "No; I have only been here one day. He ought to be glad to see his son." "I took some money with me when I went away," said Phineas hesitating. "Father's very fond of money." "Yes," assented Bert. "And he would find it hard to forget that." "Why didn't you come back before?" "I didn't dare to come till I could bring the money. I have got it with me, but not a dollar more. If you want to know what brings me back, look in my face and see for yourself." The moon came out from behind a cloud, and by its light Bert saw that the young man's face was thin and ghastly. "I am sick," he said; "irregular hours and whiskey have done their work. I am afraid I have got to pass in my checks." "What does that mean--die?" "Yes." "Don't give up!" said Bert, feeling his sympathies go out toward this prodigal son. "You are young. It takes a good deal to kill a young man." "You're a good fellow, Bert. That's your name, isn't it? Will you do me a favor?" "To be sure I will." "I am famished. I haven't had anything to eat for twenty-four hours. Can you slip downstairs and fetch me something to eat--no matter what--and a glass of milk?" Bert hesitated. He could get what was required in the pantry, but suppose the farmer or his wife should wake up! It would make his position a very awkward one. "Hadn't you better go down yourself?" he asked. "I can hardly stand, I am so tired. Besides, I don't know where mother keeps things." "I will try," said Bert; and he slipped on his pantaloons, and went softly downstairs. CHAPTER XXI. THE MIDNIGHT VISIT TO THE PANTRY. "Suppose Mrs. Wilson sees me?" thought Bert uncomfortably. "She will take me for a thief." He was actuated by the kindest motives, but he heartily wished his errand were done. As he stepped into the kitchen he heard the deep breathing of Mrs. Wilson and the noisy snore of her husband, and rightly judged that it would not be easy to rouse either of them. He opened the pantry door, and by the light of the moon was able to inspect the shelves. There was a half loaf of bread on one shelf, half a dozen doughnuts on a plate on the shelf below, and a few cold beans close beside them. Then there was a small pitcher half-full of milk.