“Anna came this forenoon and asked me what she should do,” Mrs. Carroll said, in her soft tone of childlike glee, as if she really enjoyed the situation.  “Poor Anna looked annoyed.  This country air makes Anna hungry.  Now, as for me, I am not hungry at all.  If I can have fruit and salad I am quite satisfied.  It is so fortunate that we have those raspberries and those early pears.  Those little pears are quite delicious, and they are nourishing, I am sure.  And then it is providential that we have lettuce in our own garden.  And the grocer did not object in the least to letting last week’s bill run and letting us have olive-oil and vinegar.  I have plenty, so I can regard it all quite cheerfully; but Anna, poor darling, is hungry like a pussy-cat for real, solid meat.  Well, Anna comes, face so long”—­Mrs. Carroll drew down her lovely face, to a chorus of admiring laughter, Anna Carroll herself joining.  Mrs. Carroll continued.  “Yes, so long,” and made her face long again by way of encore.  “And I said, ’Why, Anna, honey, what is the matter?’ ‘Amy,’ said she, ’this is serious, very serious.  Why, neither the butcher nor the egg-man will trust us.  We have only money enough to part pay one of them, just to keep them going,’ says she, ‘and what shall I do, Amy?’ ’It’s either to go without meat or eggs,’ says I.  ‘Yes, Amy, honey,’ says she.  ’And you can’t pay them each a little?’ says I, ’for I am real wise about that way of doing, you know.’” Mrs. Carroll said the last with the air of a precocious child; she looked askance for admiration as she said it, and laughed herself with the others. “‘No,’ says poor Anna—­’no, Amy, there is not enough money for two littles, only enough for one little.  What shall we do, Amy?’ ‘Well,’ says Amy, ’we had chops for lunch.’  ’Those aren’t paid for, and that is the reason we can’t have beef for dinner,’ says Anna.  ‘Well,’ says Amy, ’we had those chops, didn’t we?  And the butcher can’t alter that, anyway; and we are all nourished by those chops, and dear Arthur has had his good luncheon in the City, and there is soup-stock in the house, and things to make one of those delicious raspberry-puddings, and we cannot starve, we poor but honest Carrolls, on those things; and eggs are cheaper, are they not, honey, dear?’ ‘Yes,’ says Anna, with that sort of groan she has when her mind is on economy—­’yes, Amy, dear.’  ‘And,’ says I, ’Arthur always wants his eggs for breakfast, and he does not like cold meat in the morning, and if he went to business without his eggs, and there was an accident on his empty stomach, only think how we would feel, Anna.  So we will have,’ says Amy, ’soup and pudding for dinner, and eggs for breakfast, and we will part pay the egg-man and not the butcher.’  And then Amy puts on her new gown and does all she can for her family, to make up for the lack of the roast.”

“Did you say it was raspberry-pudding, Amy?” asked Eddy, anxiously.

“Yes, honey, with plenty of sauce, and you may have some twice if you want it.”