"It will be in five minutes," said his mother, folding up her work and going into the adjoining room. "I have got some dipped toast for you to-night."
"Just what I like."
"But I delayed putting the toast into the dip till you came. There is some minced meat."
"In other words, hash," said Paul, laughing.
"I think you will find it good, in spite of the name."
"Oh, I am sure to like it, since it is home-made. At the restaurants I am a little afraid; I don't know but it may be made of dogs or cats."
"Do they make it of dogs or cats, Paul?" asked his little sister, curiously.
"I don't know," said Paul; "I won't swear to it. All I know is that there's a lot of dogs and cats that disappear mysteriously every year in Chicago."
Meanwhile Mrs. Palmer had been busily completing her arrangements for supper, and it was ready within the five minutes mentioned.
"Supper's ready, Paul. I haven't made you wait long," she said.