Everychild assumed a very grave air. "How often does this happen?" he asked. "Every night," he was assured. He made a very wry face. "But such things . . ." He couldn't think of the right word at first. Then he asked, "But isn't it all very--very vulgar?" The first daughter sighed. "I suppose so," she admitted. "But when there are so many children you can't help being a little vulgar." The first son put in here: "And you mustn't think too hard of mother. You can imagine her position: so many of us, and the high cost of living, and all. Sometimes I think she whips us just to get our minds off our stomachs. You know, a supper of broth without any bread--and that's just what it is--is about as bad as nothing at all. But if you've been whipped soundly you forget about being hungry. You think about running away, or something like that. And the next thing you know it's morning." Everychild still felt very uncomfortable. "But how does she manage about breakfast?" he asked. "Oh, she has to feed us well in the morning--to keep us from starving," explained the first son. Everychild nodded as if the matter had been made perfectly clear. And then the Old Woman cried out quite alarmingly, "Are you coming, or shall I have to fetch you?" Several of the children replied to this: "We're coming!" Nevertheless they did not go immediately. The first daughter would not go without saying to Everychild, "Of course we ought to invite you to have supper with us--but you see it isn't quite like a regular supper." She blushed painfully. Everychild reassured her immediately. "Don't think of it," he said. The second son also had something else to say. "I suppose there aren't so many of you at your house?" he asked. "So many children?" replied Everychild. "No. Not any, now. I was the only child." This had the effect of exciting all the sons and daughters. The second son voiced the amazement which they all felt. "You don't say so!" he exclaimed. "But how did you ever get anything to wear? If there was no one ahead of you, how could they make anything over for you?" Everychild really did not understand this. "Why, my mother used to get things for me," he said. "Your mother, certainly," said the second son. "But who wore your clothes before you got them?" "No one, I suppose. You mean that your clothes . . . ?" "They're made over from the things the older children have grown too big for." Everychild was more and more puzzled. "Yes," he said, "but the oldest one of all--there had to be a beginning!" The second son laughed. "In the beginning," he explained, "they have to be cut down from father's things." "Oh--your father's!" exclaimed Everychild. Then in a polite murmur, "I--I never heard of your father." The second son explained this simply. "You never do, when there are so many children," he said. While Everychild was nodding slowly in reply to this the scene suddenly changed.