His self-respect is not entirely
gone, for he would not appear drunk before Emma. If I could command
patience to treat him with civility, there might be some hope in that;"
so turning toward him she asked, "Have you taken supper, Mr. Graffam?"
The poor man hesitated. He was really hungry; for that which had proved
to him both victuals and drink, was now wanting; but he feared to speak
of his hunger, lest his wife should say, "The children have no rum to
drink, and it takes all the food _I_ can supply, to keep them from
starving."
"Here is a nice loaf of bread," continued Mrs. Graffam, cheerfully, as
she took the things from the basket, "and a paper of tea; Miss Emma
could not have intended these for poor little Sammy: so, if you please,
Mr. Graffam, just light a fire under the kettle, and I will make you a
cup of tea."
"And a cup for yourself," said Graffam, as he lighted the dry sticks in
the large stone chimney, and then peered into the corners of the room
in search of his children.
"They are all asleep," said his wife; and the poor man turned quickly
toward the fire again, for he feared that she would add, "The poor
creatures have been out upon the plains all day: Heaven knows what we
shall do when the berries are gone." But Mrs. Graffam said nothing
more. She set out the pine table, and going to an old chest brought a
white cloth; it was of bird's-eye diaper.
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