"We better get down to breakfast," Samantha said. She followed Prudence downstairs, pausing at Joseph's door, which remained shut. Maybe he's already down there, she thought.
He wasn't in the kitchen. His father sat at a round table, reading from a wide sheet of paper-a newspaper-as he chewed a piece of bread. Meanwhile, Wendell studied a silver box, jumping when two pieces of bread popped out of slots on the top. Wendell plucked a piece of bread from the box, studying it. "Amazing. The bread's toasted without any fire at all."
"It's a toaster," Mr. Pryde said. "It runs on electricity. Just about everything here does. Don't suppose you kids have any of that where you're from."
"No, sir," Samantha said. She dusted off a chair before sitting down at the table. In the center of the table was a plate of eggs along with strips and round tubes of meat. She bit into one of the strips, crunching it in her mouth. Bacon, she thought. A delicacy never available in Eternity because Reverend Crane hadn't believed in raising pigs. Prudence nibbled on a tube of meat, her face lighting up. She promptly helped herself to five more of the tubes.
"These are good," she said.
"Don't you have sausage?" Mr. Pryde asked. "That ain't against your religion or anything, is it?"
"Not exactly. We don't keep any pigs."
"That's a shame." Mr. Pryde took a sip of black liquid from a cup. "What about coffee?"
Samantha and Prudence looked at each other and then shrugged. "We don't have any of that either," Samantha said.
"I don't know how you kids can live like that," Mr. Pryde said. "No offense," he added.
"None taken. We live a very simple life," Samantha said. Wendell finished examining the toaster to sit down at the table and try some of the bacon and sausage. He and Prudence were soon racing to empty the plate. Samantha looked up at the ceiling and asked, "Did Joseph already leave?"
"Nah, he's not up yet. Either that or he's up there tinkering with some experiment of his. I don't know what he's doing half the time," Mr. Pryde said.
Or he might be too horrified about last night to come down, Samantha thought. "He seems nice," she said, looking down at her plate so Mr. Pryde couldn't see her face reddening.
"He's a good boy. A lot like his mother." Mr. Pryde folded up his newspaper, displaying a headline on the election results from someplace called New Hampshire. "What are you kids doing today?"
"We have to go into town and get some supplies for back home," Samantha said. "They're expecting us soon."