The Colonel had talked wisely and well. Porky attacked his
father from the rear, and strangled him in a bear's hug, knocking
off his glasses.
Beany had his mother round the neck too, but not so roughly.
He kissed her hurriedly on the ear and then on the check and
lips. Then he released her as Porky came bolting around the
table. Mr. Potter, grinning with happiness, was feeling on the
floor for his glasses; Mrs. Potter's eyes bright with joy.
"Why, how you do take on! Dear me suz!"
"Gee, but it's good to get home!" said the twins together. Porky
went back and sat on the arm of his father's chair. Beany
followed his mother into the kitchen. She had hurried out to
wipe her eyes.
"Didn't think we'd be home, did you, mom?" asked Beany,
pretending to look in the sugar bowl.
"I kind of plotted on it," said Mrs. Potter. "I felt like it was
a good thing to be on the safe side." She opened a tin box, and
drew forth a cake, a glorious large, dark, chocolate layer cake.
"Well, what's the news?" asked Porky presently at the table
helping himself to more fried chicken and potatoes and parsnips
and honey.
"Yes, what has happened?" echoed Beany, taking a portion of the
chicken and potatoes, and parsnips, and adding mustard pickle,
and preserved watermelon rind and jam.
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