The house at which Tom applied for food evidently did not belong to one of the "first families," or, if it did, the owner's fortunes had become sadly dilapidated. It was built of rough boards, with a huge stone chimney, which was erected on the outside of the structure. The humblest fisherman in Pinchbrook Harbor would have thought himself poorly accommodated in such a rough and rickety mansion. If Tom's case had not been growing desperate, he would not have run the risk of showing himself to any person on the "sacred soil" who was "to the manor born;" but his stomach was becoming more and more imperative in its demands, and he knocked at the front door with many misgivings, especially as his exchequer contained less than a dollar of clear cash. The inmates were either very deaf or very much indisposed to see visitors; and Tom, after he had knocked three times, began to think he had not run any great risk in coming to this house. As nobody replied to his summons, he took the liberty to open the door and enter. The establishment was even more primitive in its interior than its exterior, and the soldier boy could not help contrasting it with the neat houses of the poor in his native town. The front door opened into a large room without the formality of an entry or hall. In one corner of the apartment stood a bed. At one side was a large fireplace, in which half a dozen sticks of green wood were hissing and sizzling in a vain attempt to make the contents of an iron pot, which hung over them, reach the boiling point. No person was to be seen or heard on the premises, though the fire and the pot were suggestive of humanity at no great distance from the spot. A door on the back side of the room was open, and Tom looked out in search of the occupants of the house. In the garden he discovered the whole family, consisting of a man and his wife, a girl of twelve, and a boy of ten. The man was digging in the garden, and the rest of the troupe seemed to be superintending the operation. The head of the family was altogether the most interesting person to Tom, for he must either shake hands or fight with him. He did not look like a giant in intellect, and he certainly was not a giant in stature. With the bayonet still in his belt, Tom was not afraid of him. "How are you, people?" said Tom, as he walked towards the family, who with one accord suspended all operations, and gave their whole attention to the stranger. "How are ye, yourself?" replied the man, rather gruffly. "Do you keep a hotel?" demanded Tom, who concealed the anxiety of his heart under a broad grin. "I reckon I don't. What do you want here?" "I want something to eat," replied Tom, proceeding to business with commendable straight-forwardness. "We hain't got nothin' here," said the man, sourly. "That ain't what ye come fur, nuther." "Must have something to eat. I'm not very particular, but I must have something."