"Didn't think we'd be home, did you, mom?" asked Beany, pretending to look in the sugar bowl.
"I kind of plotted on it," said Mrs. Potter. "I felt like it was a good thing to be on the safe side." She opened a tin box, and drew forth a cake, a glorious large, dark, chocolate layer cake.
"Well, what's the news?" asked Porky presently at the table helping himself to more fried chicken and potatoes and parsnips and honey.
"Yes, what has happened?" echoed Beany, taking a portion of the chicken and potatoes, and parsnips, and adding mustard pickle, and preserved watermelon rind and jam. "Must be something has happened."
"Yes," said Pop Potter, smiling. "You bin away all of four days.
Long enough for everybody round here to breathe easy for once!"
"Well, things does happen!" said Mrs. Potter. "I saw the Land boy the other day, and if he ain't drafted!"
"Yes, and what think she says?" Pop Potter exclaimed. "She says, 'So you're drafted? Well, well, ain't you sorry just for your own face, that you didn't enlist?'"
"Well, I so felt!" Mom Potter defended herself. "Dear me, suz, if you boys had to be drug—well, I dunno what I'd do!"
"Good for you, mom!" said Porky. "I knew you had the spunk. We will be in it somehow ruther, if they don't stick us in school."
"How's that?" asked Mr. Potter.