r house," said Ellen.

"Yes," remarked Theodora. "The only way our boys ever show that they
appreciate our good biscuit, or cake, is by eating about twice as much
of it, which of course makes it all the harder for us to cook more. When
we get a poor batch of bread it will last twice as long as good;--that's
one comfort."

"Why, Doad, I never heard you talk like that before," said Halse, with a
look of surprise.

"No more did I," remarked Addison. "Theodora, I am scandalized."

"I know it is horrid," she replied. "But I have thought it, if I never
have said it, many and many a time, when I've nearly roasted myself over
the hot stove, this summer, and thought I had enough cooked to last two
days, at least; and then in would march you three hungry boys, to table,
and eat it all up, eat my whole panful of doughnuts and finish off with
eight or ten cookies apiece, just because they were good, or a little
better than usual. If they had been a little poorer they would have
lasted two days, surely."

"Doad, you are getting positively wicked," said Addison. "I don't see
what has come over you. You are not yourself."

"She is only telling the cold truth," exclaimed Kate. "Boys all seem to
think that victuals grow ready cooked in the house somewheres, and that
the more they can eat the better it ought to suit us. Here's Tom, a
pretty good sort of boy generally, but he will come into the pantry,
after he has been racing about out-of-doors, and commit ravages that it
will take me hours of hot, hateful work to repair. Oh, he is a perfect
pantry scourge, a doughnut-and-cooky terror! Why, I have had what I knew
must be half a big panful of doughnuts, or cookies, enough for supper
and breakfast, certainly; and then about three or four o'clock of a hot
August afternoon, I would hear Tom's boots clumpering in the pantry, and
by the time I would get there, he would be just sneaking out, grinning
like a Chessy-cat, with his old mouth full and his pockets bulging out.
I will look in my pan and there will not be enough left to put on a
plate once! Then I know I have got to build a fire, get on my old floury
apron and go at it again, when I've just got cool and comfortable, after
my day's work!

"When he does that, I sometimes think I don't know whether I love him
well enough to cook for him, or not. For when he is hungry and comes
tearing in like that, he will carry off more than he can eat. His eyes
want all he sees. He will carry of