Henry knelt down to look at the visitor, who wagged his tail. "It wouldn't be a bad thing to have a watchdog," said Henry. "I worried about you all the time I was gone."
"Did you bring some milk?" inquired Benny, trying to be polite, but looking at the bottles with longing eyes.
"Bless his heart!" said Jess, struggling to her feet with the dog. "We'll have dinner right away—or is it supper?"
"Call it supper," suggested Henry, "for it's the last thing we'll have to eat today."
"And then tomorrow we'll start having three meals every day," laughed Jess.
It was certainly a queer meal, whatever it was. Jess, who liked above all things to be orderly, spread out the big gray laundry bag on the pine needles for a tablecloth. The brown loaf was cut by a very excited little hostess into five thick squares; the cheese into four.
"Dogs don't eat cheese," Benny remarked cheerfully. The poor little fellow was glad of it, too, for he was very hungry. He could hardly wait for Jess to set the milk bottles in the center of the table and heap the blueberries in four little mounds, one at each place.
