"I don't want any of that, I don't like it," exclaimed Henry. "I should think you might have a better dinner than this."
"What would you have if you could get it,—roast chicken and plum pudding?" inquires his mother, laughing, instead of reproving him for his error.
"I would have something I can eat. You know I don't like that, and never did."
"Well, it does boys good, sometimes, to eat what they don't like, especially such particular ones as you are," says his father.
"I shan't eat what I don't like, at any rate," continues Henry, "I shall go hungry first."
"There, now," added his father, "let me hear no more complaint about your food. You are scarcely ever suited with your victuals."
"May I have some ——?" calling for some article not on the table.
"If you will hold your tongue, and get it yourself, you can have it."
"And let me have some, too!" shouts James, a younger brother; "I don't like this, neither. May I have some, father?"
"And I too," said Jane, setting up her plea. "I must have some if they do."