HOW A GOOD DINNER WAS LOST.
TING a ling ling! a ling ling! ling ling! ling! So went the dinner bells—first mamma’s, then Mrs. Green’s, Mrs. Brown’s, Mrs. White’s, and all the other neighbors’ with colored names. It was everybody’s dinner hour; and by the way, is it not funny how everybody gets hungry together?
Dinner was to be eaten at the healthy, good old-fashioned hour of noon, between the two sessions of school. The children were just fresh from slates, with long, crooked rows of hard figures, and heavy atlases, with unpronounceable towns and rivers that would not be found out. There were chickens and dough-balls for dinner. The smell of them made the children ravenous; and they very nearly tripped up Maria and her platter in their haste to reach the table.
Mamma looked around to see if they were all there, and counted on her fingers,—
“Baby, Jelly, Tiny—Tiny, where’s Bunch?”
“Why, I thought she was in the kitchen,” said Tiny, looking wistfully at the tempting drumsticks. “Papa, won’t you please help us little folks first—just to-day? ’cause we’re so awful hungry.”