"What did he sell?"
"His birthright—for a mess of pottage."
"Why'd he do that?"
"He was stony broke, he wanted something to eat, see, and he sold his all for a mess of pottage. Now, if he found he didn't like his pottage, could he have given it back and gotten his birthright again?"
"Yes, indeed," chirped Billy. "I don't see why not. But why didn't he get something better than a mess of pottage?"
"Don't ask me, kid. But, I guess you're right. No one can keep your birthright unless you're willing they should."
"I usually know more about the Bible," stammered Billy, fearful of the impression her ignorance must have made. "I know about Moses and Ruth."
The Watermelon nodded. "You see, I was raised on the Bible," he said kindly.
"Yes," agreed Billy, "and I was raised on Mellen's food."
A step was heard on the floor above and she started hastily. "I guess I had better be going," she whispered. "Good night, Jerry."