ning came, and I had to open the store, there was nothing
left but a keg full of empty shells," the father used to shout, laughing
at the same time so that it was hard to catch what he said. Then he
would smack his lips and add with earnest conviction: "I have never
tasted anything better unless it be the Russian caviar we used to import
for the Court."

Always it was a matter of quantity as well as quality. A feast was not a
feast without more than plenty. Eating was always in order. An offer of
a dish was as good as a command to partake. A refusal bordered on the
offensive. Pressing a reluctant guest was the highest form of
hospitality. Dietary precautions were apparently unheard of except in
the case of certain chronic ailments, and then they were accepted as one
of life's worst evils. To eat well was to be well, and the natural
conclusion was that the best cure in case of trouble was to eat. Lack of
appetite was a misfortune as well as a dangerous symptom, and to eat
when not hungry was not only a necessity but a virtue.

Yet Keith longed for other things and he learned early that even eating
has its drawbacks.

XVII

Except on Sundays, the father rarely ate with the rest of the family. He
left in the morning before Keith was up and never came home for
breakfast. His dinner often had to wait until five or six or even later,
so he seldom cared to eat again when the others had their supper.

One afternoon, however, he appeared just as Keith and his mother were to
sit for dinner. It put her in a flutter and she couldn't get an
additional cover laid quick enough.

"I heard that mother was coming," he remarked as he seated himself at
the table.

Instantly Keith's mother shot an apprehensive glance at the boy and
exclaimed:

"Please try to be a real nice boy now, so that your grandmother does not
get a bad impression of you." Then she added, turning to her husband:
"She never says anything, but she always looks as if I spoiled Keith
hopelessly."

"Well," the father rejoined thoughtfully, "she brought up four children
of her own without anybody else to help her, and there was not one among
us who dared to disregard her slightest word."

"How about Henrik," the mother suggested a little tartly.

"Yes, the one spared is the one spoiled," admitted the father with a
sigh. "He was the youngest, and while he was licked like all of us, her
hand never seemed quite as firm with him as with the rest. The worst
thi