"Oh, Tom, you're always a c'recting a fellow. Well, if she can't have my pin-wheel, what shall I give her to make her shut up?"
"Maybe I can find something in mother's cupboard, maybe," answered Harry.
The tone was doubtful, but the suggestion cheering, and with one accord the triplets left the baby to its fate and betook themselves to the rear room where they ransacked a small pantry, only to find their search rewarded by nothing more palatable than a stale loaf of bread and a few raw potatoes.
"She can't eat taters, and she can't eat this bread, 'ithout it's softened. And there isn't any milk," said Dick, despondingly. "I don't see why we don't have things like we used to have. I don't know what made my folks move 'way out here to nowhere, anyway. I was just going to get a new 'rithmetic to my school, and now, I—I hate this."
"No, you don't hate it, Dicky. Not always. You're hungry, that's all," said the more thoughtful Tom.
"Well, so are you!" retorted Dick, resent-
