"We don't need ail that stuff.
What do you think you are going to do, get up a banquet? If you are
going to use ail those pots and pans, son, you will have to wash
them by your lonesome."
"Huh!" replied Pepper, "there wouldn't be any novelty about that.
The dish-washing seems to gravitate my way anyhow."
"That's because you use so many more of them than the rest of us,"
explained Donald.
"Why, I don't use any more of them than you do," expostulated
Pepper. "Well, maybe you don't use any more," admitted Don with
a judicial air, "but you use them more."
Pepper was about to retort in kind when there was a quick step
outside the door and an alert-looking, brown-haired, brown-eyed
boy, with his cap perched upon the back of his head, dashed into
the room.
"Hello, fellows!" he cried, "I thought I wasn't going to get here
in time, but I see I struck it at the psychological moment. I am
as hungry as a bull pup."
"Hello, Jack!" responded Rand, "we began to think you weren't
coming. What's the latest in Creston?"
"Oh, there is something worth while to-day," replied Jack, drawing
a box up to the plank that served as a table.
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