is our new boy, Nat Blake. After supper you can say how do you do?
Gently, boys, gently."

As she spoke every one stared at Nat, and then whisked into their seats,
trying to be orderly and failing utterly. The Bhaers did their best to
have the lads behave well at meal times, and generally succeeded pretty
well, for their rules were few and sensible, and the boys, knowing that
they tried to make things easy and happy, did their best to obey.
But there are times when hungry boys cannot be repressed without real
cruelty, and Saturday evening, after a half-holiday, was one of those
times.

"Dear little souls, do let them have one day in which they can howl and
racket and frolic to their hearts' content. A holiday isn't a holiday
without plenty of freedom and fun; and they shall have full swing once
a week," Mrs. Bhaer used to say, when prim people wondered why
banister-sliding, pillow-fights, and all manner of jovial games were
allowed under the once decorous roof of Plumfield.

It did seem at times as if the aforesaid roof was in danger of flying
off, but it never did, for a word from Father Bhaer could at any time
produce a lull, and the lads had learned that liberty must not be
abused. So, in spite of many dark predictions, the school flourished,
and manners and morals were insinuated, without the pupils exactly
knowing how it was done.

Nat found himself very well off behind the tall pitchers, with Tommy
Bangs just around the corner, and Mrs. Bhaer close by to fill up plate
and mug as fast as he could empty them.

"Who is that boy next the girl down at the other end?" whispered Nat to
his young neighbor under cover of a general laugh.

"That's Demi Brooke. Mr. Bhaer is his uncle."

"What a queer name!"

"His real name is John, but they call him Demi-John, because his
father is John too. That's a joke, don't you see?" said Tommy, kindly
explaining. Nat did not see, but politely smiled, and asked, with
interest:

"Isn't he a very nice boy?"

"I bet you he is; knows lots and reads like any thing."

"Who is the fat one next him?"

"Oh, that's Stuffy Cole. His name is George, but we call him Stuffy
'cause he eats so much. The little fellow next Father Bhaer is his boy
Rob, and then there's big Franz his nephew; he teaches some, and kind of
sees to us."

"He plays the flute, doesn't he?" asked Nat as Tommy rendered himself
speechless by putting a whole baked apple into his mouth at one blow.

Tommy nodded,