ant.
When he don't eat more it's because he can't.'

"Mamma, didn't he eat anything at all at the Downs'? He's been stuffing
ever since he came back--cake and candy, and now those nuts. It's
positively disgraceful to carry food away in your pockets the way you
do, Norman Ware."

"I always do when I go to Billy's house," answered Norman, undisturbed
by her criticism, and crashing his rocker down on a row of almonds. "And
Billy always does the same here. We're not company. We're home folks at
both places."

The shells which he threw toward the fire missed their aim and fell on
the hearth. Mary pointed significantly toward the turkey-wing, and he as
significantly shrugged his shoulders, in token that he would not sweep
up the mess he had made. They kept up a playful pantomime some time,
while Jack and his mother went on discussing Joyce's home-coming, before
he finally obeyed her peremptory gesture. He thought she was in one of
her jolliest moods, induced by the glorious news of the letter. But all
the time she was silently repeating his question, "Where do _you_ expect
to come in, Mary? What will _you_ do?"

Here she was, baffled again. The time she had spent in writing that
letter, now tucked away under her belt, was wasted. It was out of the
question to appeal to Cousin Kate now, just when she had done so much
for another member of the family, and especially when she had sailed
away to so vague a place as the south of France, by the doctor's orders.
Even if Mary had her address, she felt it would be wrong to bother her
with a request which would require any "pulling of strings." For that
could not be done without letter writing, and in her state of health
even that might be some tax on her strength, which she had no right to
ask. Hope, that had soared so buoyantly an hour before, once more sank
despairingly to earth. What was she to do? Which way could she turn
next?

When bedtime came a little later, Mrs. Ware went in to Norman's room to
take some extra cover. Mary lingered to pin some newspapers around her
potted plants and move them away from the windows. Jack, standing in
front of the fireplace, winding the clock on the mantel, saw her slip a
folded paper from under her belt, and toss it into the fire with such a
tragic gesture, that he knew without telling that it was the letter on
which she had worked so industriously. She saw that he understood and
she was grateful that he said nothing.

While th