"I don't know. But he said he didn't like it. He threw the plate on the floor."
"How about the milk?"
"He wouldn't drink any."
"Didn't you tell him that he had to."
"I did that, Mr. Neale. I told him God wouldn't love him if he didn't eat his nice spinach and that, begging your pardon, sir, you'd cry."
"Today," said Peter with a certain magnificence, "I'll stay home and eat lunch with him myself. And for lunch we'll have just spinach and milk."
"Well, well," said Peter, with great gusto as lunch was served, "isn't this fine—milk and spinach. Kate, how did you know just what we wanted?"
"I don't want any lunch," said Pat.
"No spinach?"
Pat did not deign a reply.