“What’s a party call?” Channing’s mouth was full of soup.  “What’s a party call, Uncle Winthrop?”

“It’s the penalty one has to pay for being invited where one doesn’t want to go.  What were you saying, Dorothea?”

“I’ve forgotten.  Channing is just as rude as if he were somebody!  Oh yes—­I started to say I’m sorry we were piggy about mentioning the food first.  We’ve been crazy to see you.  We had something to tell you.  I think I’ll sit down here right by you; it’s too far off behind those flowers, and I’ll kiss you now if you don’t mind.”  And Dorothea’s arms were around her uncle’s neck and her cheek was laid lovingly to his.

“Of course.”  Laine unfastened the arms, drew the child’s head down, kissed her, and patted the little hands before sending their owner to her seat.  “Being the beginning of a woman you kiss and make up, which is more than your heathen brother does.  Not another one!” The dish of almonds was withdrawn from Channing’s reach.  “Let me see your hands, sir!  And you a member of polite society!  Ah, here’s the turkey.  And it’s the drumstick you said you wanted, did you, Channing?  Drumsticks were put on turkeys just for little boys.  I always got the drumstick and the gizzard.”

“I don’t want any drumsticks!” Channing’s lips quivered.  “I want—­”

“And he can’t have the gizzard, Uncle Winthrop, really he can’t.  Maybe you don’t know about Fletcherizing, and you ought to be thankful you don’t, but you can’t Fletcherize a gizzard, not if you chew all night, and if there’s breast enough for everybody, I think he’d better have that.  And I’ll take plenty of gravy, please, and stuffing, if there’s oysters in it.  Wait a minute!” Dorothea’s hand went up and her head went down.  “I’d like to say grace:  ’I thank Thee, Lord, for this sure-enough food and for Uncle Winthrop being here, and please let it happen again and don’t let it make us sick.  Amen.’”

Through the grace Channing’s fork had been suspended, but his jaws had not stopped work; and at the last word he leaned forward and made a dive for the olives, two of which he put in his mouth at once.

To the man at the foot of the table the situation was perplexing.  His niece and nephew, born of wealth and surrounded by abundance, were eating with the eagerness of little pigs; eating as if afraid their plates would be withdrawn before they had had their fill.  On the tip of Channing’s nose a drop of gravy glistened in the candle-light, and Dorothea was swallowing much too rapidly for health.

Looking up, she caught her uncle’s eye and leaned back in her chair.  Hands on her breast and eyes half closed, she sighed regretfully.  “I’m full already, and we’re not half through,” she said, and beckoned to the butler, who came closer.  “What kind of salad is it, Timkins, and is there mayonnaise on it or that thin stuff?”

Timkins coughed slightly behind his hand.  “It’s mushrooms and white grapes with mayonnaise, I think, Miss, but—­”