"
"The Raven, Ruth!" John said, mystified. "Why did you want to call me the
Raven?"
"I wouldn't do it if you didn't like it, dear John; but you know that
chapter that Master Williams read us, the other day, about the ravens
that fed somebody in a cave, and we have been wishing the ravens would
feed us; and so you see, when you sent us the milk last night, I thought
you ought to be called the Raven. I did not mean any harm."
"No, my dear, of course not, and you can all call me the Raven, if you
like."
"No, no, John. You are John, and that's much better than the Raven. They
brought the man food, but they didn't nurse him and tell him stories, as
you do."
"Now, run inside the castle," John said, "and I will go in and get your
breakfasts."
John soon returned, with a great bowl of curds and whey, a platter piled
up with slices of bread and a score of little mugs, and the feast began.
Scarce a word was said while the children were eating. Their hunger was
too keen, and their enjoyment too intense, to admit of speech. When each
had finished their portion, there was a general exclamation.
"Oh, John, you haven't had any. Why didn't you have some, too?"
"Because there is only enough for you," he said.
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