THE DEAR LITTLE ISLAND. 9

plates in order for three. She then went into a
small pantry in which were kept all the pro-
visions belonging to the family, and brought
out a loaf of brown bread, and some butter as
yellow as a dandelion.

“This fire will never burn,” said Tom,
impatiently, as the dull smoke went up the
wide chimney.

“The chips are green,” said Bessie ; «“ go and
pick up some dry stuff.”

Tom went out, but did not return immediate-
ly. Bessie ran to the door, and called him.
There, at a short distance from the house, was
Tom, standing by a pile of slabs, which had
been sawed from timber, and had still the
rough bark on one side of them.

“ Come, Tom, come; the fire is the thing to
be minded now. There is father coming over
the hill, and supper not ready!” Bessie flew
into the house, cast a troubled glance at the
smoking chips, and then went into the pantry.
Soon she re-appeared with a dish of cold pork,
and placed it upon the table. By this time
Tom was on his hands and knees, blowing the
fire with all his might to coax it into a blaze.