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“Why, Mother Baucis, it, is a feast!” exclaimed Quicksilver, laughing,
“an absolute feast! and you shall see how bravely I will play my part at
it! I think I never felt hungrier in my life.”

“Mercy on us!” whispered Baucis to her husband. “If the young man has
such a terrible appetite, I am afraid there will not be half enough
supper!”

They all went into the cottage.

And now, my little auditors, shall I tell you something that will make
you open your eyes very wide? It is really one of the oddest
circumstances in the whole story. Quicksilver’s staff, you recollect,
had set itself up against the wall of the cottage. Well; when its
master entered the door, leaving this wonderful staff behind, what
should it do but immediately spread its little wings, and go hopping and
fluttering up the doorsteps! Tap, tap, went the staff, on the kitchen
floor; nor did it rest until it had stood itself on end, with the
greatest gravity and decorum, beside Quicksilver’s chair. Old Philemon,
however, as well as his wife, was so taken up in attending to their
guests, that no notice was given to what the staff had been about.

As Baucis had said, there was but a scanty supper for two hungry
travellers. In the middle of the table was the remnant of a brown loaf,
with a piece of cheese on one side of it, and a dish of honeycomb on the
other. There was a pretty good bunch of grapes for each of the guests.
A moderately sized earthen pitcher, nearly full of milk, stood at a
corner of the board; and when hands had filled two bowls, and set them
before the strangers, only a little milk remained in the bottom of the
pitcher. Alas! it is a very sad business, when a bountiful heart finds
itself pinched and squeezed among narrow circumstances. Poor Baucis
kept wishing that she might starve for a week to come, if it were
possible, by so doing, to provide these hungry folks a more plentiful
supper.

And, since the supper was so exceedingly small, she could not help
wishing that their appetites had not been quite so large. Why, at their
very first sitting down, the travellers both drank off all the milk in
their two bowls, at a draught.

“A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if you please,” said
Quicksilver. “The day has been hot, and I am very much athirst.”

“Now, my dear people,” answered Baucis, in great confusion, “I am so
sorry and ashamed! But the truth is, there is hardly a drop more milk
in the pitcher. O husband! husband! why did n’t we go without our
supper?”

“Why, it appears to me,” cried Quicksilver, starting up from table and
taking the pitcher by the handle, “it really appears to me that matters
are not quite so bad as you represent them. Here is certainly more milk
in the pitcher.”

So saying, and to the vast astonishment of Baucis, he proceeded to fill,
not only his own bowl, but his companion’s likewise, from the pitcher,
that was supposed to be almost empty. The good woman could scarcely
believe her eyes. She had certainly poured out nearly all the milk, and
had peeped in afterwards, and seen the bottom of the pitcher, as she set
it down upon the table.

“But I am old,” thought Baucis to herself, “and apt to be forgetful. I
suppose I must have made a mistake. At all events, the pitcher cannot,
help being empty now, after filling the bowls twice over.”