“Very well; four or five months in the year. No wonder your poor stomach gets bored.”
“What’s the matter with eggs, Dr. Strong?” inquired Manny. “They let us have ‘em, in training.”
“Nothing is the matter with two eggs, or twenty. But when you come to two hundred, there’s something very obvious the matter—monotony. Your stomach is a machine, it’s true, but it’s a human machine. It demands variety.”
“Then Charles ought to be a model. He wants everything from soup to pie.”
“A thoroughly normal desire for a growing boy.”
“He eats an awful lot of meat,” observed Julia, who was a somewhat fastidious young lady. “My Sunday-school teacher calls meat-eaters human tigers.”
“Oh, that’s too easy a generalization, Junkum,” replied the Health Master. “With equal logic she could say that vegetable-eaters are human cows.”
“But the vegetarians make very strong arguments,” said Mrs. Clyde.
“A lot of pale-eyed, weak-blooded nibblers!” stated Grandma Sharpless. “If meat weren’t good for us, we wouldn’t have been eating it all these generations.”
“True enough. Perhaps we eat a little too much of it, particularly in the warm months. But in winter it’s practically a necessity.”