"Where's your manners, children?" inquired Mrs. Blakely placidly, as they pushed and fought.
"Outdoors! ha! ha!"
The youthful wit was jerked from a chair and Mrs. Blakely nodded at Nan.
"Slide in thar, and," she urged humorously, "jest grab a root and pull."
A monument of pale soda-biscuits in the center of the table faded even as Nan looked, while eager hands, each gripping a fork, reached for the platter of salt pork swimming in its own grease.
Mrs. Blakely circulated with a huge, tin coffee-pot from which she poured a feeble beverage that might as easily have been tea as coffee.
"Charlie, my lamb," chided Mrs. Blakely in gentle forbearance, "don't put yoah knee on the table. If you-all kain't retch what you want, ast for it."
"Who'd hear me!" inquired Charles, and with some reason.
"Looks like yoah pa would git around to his meals on time once in a while!" Mrs. Blakely shuffled to the door. "Puts me be-
