BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER VII.
It seemed to Tommy as if the Gopher would never get enough. The little boy had never before witnessed such voracity. By actual count he had seen seventeen plates of soup vanish into his neighbor's system, and yet there was no apparent ill effect. The Gopher threw each empty dish under the table, so that the pile of crockery was now so high in front of his chair that he could rest his feet on it.
"Really," said Tommy at last, "I never saw such a greedy thing as you in all my life."
"I can't help it," answered the Gopher, complacently; "the eating question is a most important one, and I'm afraid they'll all get up and say dinner is over before I've had half enough."
"It seems to me that you have had more than enough. And, besides, I have an aunt who says one should always arise from the table hungry."
"Never you mind that Ant," said the Gopher. "Ants don't count. They are so little they can't hold anything, anyhow. As for getting up from the table hungry, that is something I cannot understand. I always sit down hungry: and it would never do to be hungry at both ends of the meal, now would it?"
On reflection Tommy did not think it would, and as he had been more than half inclined at the outset toward the Gopher's view of the case, they soon agreed on this point. Then the little animal said,
"Thtsnawflyfnnyunsnt?"
"I can't understand you when you talk with your mouth full," replied Tommy.