"Is it something to eat?"
"Yes, son. It is." Winthrop looked at his wife and said, "Shall we eat it now?"
Ann nodded, quickly read the cooking instructions, and set about preparing scrambled egg. Winthrop got out the cooking pan, wiped off the dust, and set it down near her. She smiled at him and put a large chunk of butter in it and placed the pan on the heater. When the butter bubbled, she poured the beaten egg into the pan; it hissed as it struck the hot butter. She began to stir the egg as it cooked. Winthrop picked Davy up so he could see into the pan as the egg thickened. In a moment it was done.
Ann lifted three small dishes from a cupboard, placed them on the table, and carefully scraped the egg onto the plates. Buttered toast and milk came next, then they sat down to eat. Winthrop said a grace.
They ate in silence.
Davy looked up after his egg was gone and said, "I don't like it very much. I like it some, but not very much."
Winthrop reached over and ruffled his hair, saying to Ann, "It would have been better if we'd had some salt, I guess. But it was good anyway. I've often wondered what an egg tasted like."
He looked down at the empty plates and stared at them. Then he said quickly, "Davy, it's your bedtime. You hop on in now."
Davy's face grew long, but then Winthrop looked at him, and he climbed off his chair and went over and pulled his father down and kissed him on the cheek. "Good night, Daddy."
"Good night, son."