"Yes, surely!"
"I have my meals in my room now, so I can do as I please, and I never eat the nice things dear mother always sends me, but potatoes, and porridge, and bread and milk."
"What IS that for, Mercy?"
"To show you I am worthy of being poor—able at least to be poor. I have not once tasted anything VERY nice since the letter that made my father so angry."
"You darling!"
Of all men a highlander understands independence of the KIND of food.
"But," continued Alister, "you need not go on with it; I am quite convinced; and we must take with thanksgiving what God gives us. Besides, you have to grow yet!"
"Alister! and me like a May-pole!"
"You are tall enough, but we are creatures of three dimensions, and need more than height. You must eat, or you will certainly be ill!"
"Oh, I eat! But just as you please! Only it wouldn't do me the least harm so long as you didn't mind! It was as much to prove to myself I could, as to you! But don't you think it must be nearly time for people to wake from their first sleep?"