Once I ate halfway through a melting, fluffy,
peach-bedecked plate of something before I discovered
that it was only another egg in disguise.
"Feel like eating a great big dinner to-day, Kidlet?
"Norah would ask in the morning as she stood at my bedside
(with a glass of egg-something in her hand, of course).
"Eat!"--horror and disgust shuddering through my
voice--"Eat! Ugh! Don't s-s-speak of it to me. And for
pity's sake tell Frieda to shut the kitchen door when you
go down, will you? I can smell something like ugh!--like
pot roast, with gravy!" And I would turn my face to the
wall.
Three hours later I would hear Sis coming softly up
the stairs, accompanied by a tinkling of china and glass.
I would face her, all protest.
"Didn't I tell you, Sis, that I couldn't eat a
mouthful? Not a mouthf--um-m-m-m! How perfectly
scrumptious that looks! What's that affair in the
lettuce leaf? Oh, can't I begin on that divine-looking
pinky stuff in the tall glass? H'm? Oh, please!"
"I thought--" Norah would begin; and then she would
snigger softly.
"Oh, well, that was hours ago," I would explain,
loftily. "Perhaps I could manage a bite or two now."
Whereupon I would demolish everything except the
china and doilies.
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