on't you marry Charlotte?"

"Wouldn't you like some of those molasses-peppermints, now you have
finished the chocolates?" asked Anderson.

"No, I guess not, thank you. I don't feel very well this morning.
Say, why don't you? She's an awful nice girl--honest. And maybe I
would come and live with you. I would part of the time, anyway, and I
would help in the store."

"You had better run out and ask Sam to give you some peppermints,"
repeated Anderson, desperately.

"No, thank you. I'm real obliged, but I guess I don't feel like it
now. But I tell you what I had a good deal rather have?"

"What is that?"

"What are you going to have for dinner?"

"Now, see here, my son," said Anderson, laughing. "We are going to
have a fine dinner, and I should be exceedingly glad to have you as
my guest, but this time there must be no dining with me without your
mother's knowledge."

"Oh, Amy won't care."

"Nevertheless, you must go home and obtain permission before I take
you home with me," said Anderson, firmly.

"I don't think you are very polite," said Eddy; but it ended in his
presently saying that, well, then, he would go home and ask
permission; but it was not of the slightest use. "They would all want
me to stay, if they thought anything of me. I know Amy would. Amy
said this morning I was the worst off of them all, because I had such
a misfortunate appetite." The boy's ingenuous eyes met the man's
fixed upon him with a mixture of amusement and compassion. "You see,"
added Eddy, simply, "all the things left over from the wedding, the
caterers let us have; papa said not to ask him, and Amy wouldn't, but
Aunt Anna did, and there was a lot, though folks ate so much. There
was one gentleman ate ten plates of salad--yes, he did. I saw him. He
was the doctor, so I suppose he wasn't ill afterwards. But there was
a lot left. Of course the ice-cream melted, but it was nice to drink
afterwards, and there was a lot of salad and cake and rolls. The
cakes and rolls lasted longest. I got pretty tired of them. But now
those are all gone, and the butcher won't let us have any more meat,
though he trusted us two days after the wedding, because he heard
papa paid the florist and the liveryman, but now he has stopped
again. Of course we have things from here, but you don't keep meat.
Why don't you keep meat?"

The absurd pathos of the whole was almost too much for Anderson. He
rose and went to the window and looked out as he replied t