meal." She had even abstained from her customary lunch that
she might have an appetite worthy of the occasion; and accordingly, long
ere the dinner hour approached, she was hungry as a wolf. Notwithstanding
this fact, when Charlie made his appearance at the door, she insisted on
his going through all the accustomed forms with the mat and scraper before
entering the house; an act of self-sacrifice on her part entirely uncalled
for, as the day was remarkably fine, and Charlie's boots unusually clean.

He received two or three by no means gentle shoves and pokes as he entered,
which he bore with unusual indifference, making not the slightest effort at
retaliation, as was his usual practice. The fact is, Charlie was, as lions
are supposed to be, quite disinclined for a fight after a hearty meal, so
he followed Caddy upstairs to the second story. Here she had got up an
extempore dining-table, by placing a pasting board across two chairs.
Seating herself upon a stool, she jerked off the lid of the kettle, and, to
her horror and dismay, found not the favourite haricot, but a piece of
cheese-rind, a crust of dry bread, and a cold potatoe. Charlie, who was
amusing himself by examining the flowers in the new carpet, did not observe
the look of surprise and disgust that came over the countenance of his
sister, as she took out, piece by piece, the remains of some schoolboy's
repast.

"Look here," she at last burst forth, "do you call this _my_ dinner?"

"Yes," said Charlie, in a deliberate tone, "and a very good one too, I
should say; if you can't eat that dinner, you ought to starve; it's one of
mother's best haricots." "You don't call this cold potatoe and
cheese-rind haricot, do you?" asked Caddy, angrily.

At this Charlie looked up, and saw before her the refuse scraps, which she
had indignantly emptied upon the table. He could scarcely believe his eyes;
he got up and looked in the kettle, but found no haricot. "Well," said he,
with surprise, "if that don't beat me! I saw mother fill it with haricot
myself; I'm clean beat about it."

"Tell me what you've done with it, then," almost screamed the angry girl.

"I really don't know what has become of it," he answered, with a bewildered
air. "I saw--I saw--I--I--"

"You saw--you saw," replied the indignant Caddy, imitating his tone; and
taking up the kettle, she began to examine it more closely. "Why, this
isn't even our kettle; look at this lid. I'm sure it's not ours. You've