"How pretty it is!" said Mary. "And in reality cotton is prettier by far, for there is always the blue of the sky, the gold of the sunshine, and the green of the country. It is as if one had a snowstorm in summer." There was little opportunity for further talk for the trodden snow narrowed into a ribbon and the walkers were obliged to thread the drifts single file. At last, however, Mulberry Court came into view and with a stamping of feet and a brushing of caps and coats the family were within its welcoming portals. Then James Frederick was dug out of his carriage, shaken, and borne crowing and rosy up the stairs. The flat proved to be warm and comfortable and while Mary lighted the lamps her mother poked up the fire and sprinkled on more coal. "Now let's sit down everybody and have a nice, jolly evening," said she when the outer garments were all stowed away. "Come, Carl, draw up the rocker for Uncle Frederick. And, Timmie, there's room for you here beside me. What's the matter, laddie?" For answer Tim glanced at the steely blue hands of the clock now pointing to six. "Aren't we going to have any supper?" questioned he in an aggrieved tone. "Supper!" exploded his mother. "Surely you are not looking for anything more to eat to-day. You yourself declared only a little while ago that you couldn't eat another morsel." "It wasn't a little while ago; it was hours," Tim affirmed. "We've been to walk since then and I'm hungry." "Hungry! Did you ever hear the likes! Hungry! And the bairn swallowing down turkey until I expected every second he would have apoplexy!" "I'm hungry, too," rejoined Carl with shame-faced candor. "So am I!" piped Martin. "Well, I never saw your match!" cried their mother, holding up her hands. "One would think you were cobras, anacondas, or something else out of the zoo. Still, I don't see as I can let you starve. If you're hungry there's the pantry with its shelves groaning aloud with food. Run in and help yourselves." Her family needed no second bidding. Above everything else they loved a meal where all superfluous accessories such as knives, forks, and napkins were done away with, and where there was no one at one's elbow to caution or demand the time-worn "pleases" and "thank you's." To forage in the pantry unrestrained was like being let loose in the vales of Arcadia. One after another they emerged, bearing in their hands the spoils most attracting their fancy. "You're not going to devour that whole cross section of squash pie, are you, Tim?" asked Mary, aghast. "Sure I am," retorted the unabashed Timothy. "That is, unless you want part of it." "Of course I don't. But I should think you'd die!" "I don't expect to die," returned her imperturbable brother. "And if I do I'll at least have had one everlasting good feed." "Tim!" expostulated his horrified mother.