“Do they have Thanksgiving there, Mr. Morton?” inquired Alice.
“No, they know nothing of our good New England festival. I was obliged to order a special dinner for myself. I don't think you would have recognized plum pudding under the name which they gave it.”
“What was it?” asked Frank curiously.
“Blom buden was the name given on the bill.”
“I can spell better than that,” said Charlie.
“We shall have to send you out among the Dutchmen as a schoolmaster plenipotentiary,” said Frank, laughing. “I hope the 'blom buden' was good in spite of the way it was spelt.”
“Yes, it was very good.”
“I don't believe it beat mother's,” said Charlie.
“At your present rate of progress, Charlie, you won't leave room for any,” said Frank.
“I wish I had two stomachs,” said Charlie, looking regretfully at the inviting delicacies which tempted him with what the French call the embarrassment of riches.