"What is it, child?"
"You said that little chickies came out of eggs." There was no further pretense of whispering on Celia's part. Her voice rose in a tragic wail. "And now he's going to eat up those eggs, and I wanted to save 'em to make chickies of. Oh, dear, dear!"
"'Tain't the right time of year for chickens, dearie," Persis explained soothingly. "We'll have plenty next spring." But Joel glanced at the objects which had called out Celia's protest with an air of extreme distaste.
"It's enough to take away a hearty man's appetite," he complained. "I guess if my victuals are going to be grudged me, I'd better eat up-stairs."
"Don't gobble, Malcolm," said Persis, ignoring her brother's burst of ill temper and addressing the little lad on her right. "And tuck your napkin under your chin so you won't get anything on your blouse."
At this point the tactful Betty created a diversion by inquiring, "When shall we start going to school, Aunt Persis? Monday?"
"Looks to me as if to-morrow'd be the best day. It's my idea that if a thing's worth starting at all, you can't start too soon. Some folks save up their good resolutions for the first of the year, but it's a better way to begin right off as soon as you think of it. And then when the New Year comes, you're just that much ahead."
"I'm going to study awful hard," declared Algie, with an air of putting this good counsel to immediate application.
"Well, I'm not," announced Malcolm with equal decision. And then as
Betty emitted a protesting and shocked murmur, he explained: "Of course
I'll study some, but I've got to save the most of my strength for
playing football when I'm big."
Joel pushed back his chair and took his egg cup from the table.