Page:To-morrow Morning (1927).pdf/132

 "Baked beans!"

"If you'd rather have the eggs just say so, because they aren't any trouble."

"No, I wouldn't."

"All right, then, it's beans?"

"Beans!"

India's Love Lyrics. Jimmy had lent him those.

Here was another. "Less than the dust" That was what J. Hartley Harrison was always singing, going up on his toes like a ballet dancer, with his eyeglasses shining and the veins standing out on his forehead. Joe couldn't read it without seeing him. But this one was different:

"Supper, Joe!" cried Kate, beating upon the Chinese gong.

For a moment he flung himself down beside his chair. He pressed his face against his folded arms; his heart ached with vague happy pain. Then he ran downstairs, falling over his feet, to baked beans and crescent rolls and the potatoes Charlotte had remembered.