In fact, after that they almost forgot the storm entirely. Here was warmth and light and food; slathers of food, for Pud had invaded the pantry and produced, as if by magic, bread and jelly and cup-cakes and a jar of preserved ginger. With the viands assembled, and Harmon fairly crooning over them, he armed himself with a lamp and made his way up the big staircase into the silent, mysterious regions above. To tell the truth, he didn’t like that excursion much, but he made it just the same――rather hurriedly――and returned with three blankets. Then they all disrobed and hung their wet clothes before the fire, which was now going at a great rate, and drew the blankets about them. After that it was up to Harmon. Pud and Tim drew chairs as near the stove as they might without interfering with the cook and sat back in blissful ease and pleasant anticipation. The sight of Harmon trying to fry eggs and hold his blanket about him at one and the same time sent them into convulsions of laughter, and Harmon, joining in, danced around the kitchen with a tin spoon waving about his head. The acme of mirth was reached when Pud imagined Aunt Sabrina entering at the moment! What a dinner that was! Or, rather, let us say what a banquet, for no mere ordinary dinner ever provided such a variety of dishes! They had two kinds of ham; fried ham until it gave out and then cold ham; eggs――two apiece; stewed tomatoes; bread and butter; coffee――that was Harmon’s brilliant thought; milk while it lasted; cup-cakes; sweet crackers; currant jelly; preserved ginger――which Harmon tried and disapproved of; and many of Aunt Sabrina’s early sugar-pears, these latter discovered by Pud on the dining-room sideboard. But even that array was none too great for three such appetites, and when they had finished the top of the kitchen table was almost as bare of crumbs as it had been an hour before! They took counsel then. The storm had abated, but it was still raining busily and with no sign of cessation. The thought of returning through the rain to that drenched and comfortless launch held no allure. Here there was warmth and shelter; beds if they dared take possession of them. Tim’s courage failed at the idea of climbing into one of Aunt Sabrina’s immaculate four-posters, but Pud was for being hung for a sheep instead of a lamb. As for Harmon, busily washing up, his advice was not asked. Yet, in the end, it was Harmon who decided the question of going or staying. ‘These here clo’es ain’ goin’ be dry ’fore mornin’,’ he declared. ‘Reckon we jus’ have to sit aroun’ an’ wait till they is.’ Whereupon, remembering he was a pirate, Pud seized the lamp again and strode toward the hall. ‘Come on,’ he commanded. ‘Let’s find out where we sleep!’ Dutifully, but doubting his wisdom, Tim followed. CHAPTER VII THE PRISONER IN THE TOWER