As she spoke every one stared at Nat, and then whisked into their
seats, trying to be orderly and failing utterly. The Bhaers did their
best to have the lads behave well at meal times, and generally
succeeded pretty well, for their rules were few and sensible, and
the boys, knowing that they tried to make things easy and happy,
did their best to obey. But there are times when hungry boys
cannot be repressed without real cruelty, and Saturday evening,
after a half-holiday, was one of those times.

"Dear little souls, do let them have one day in which they can howl
and racket and frolic to their hearts' content. A holiday isn't a
holiday without plenty of freedom and fun; and they shall have full
swing once a week," Mrs. Bhaer used to say, when prim people
wondered why banister-sliding, pillow-fights, and all manner of
jovial games were allowed under the once decorous roof of
Plumfield.

It did seem at times as if the aforesaid roof was in danger of flying
off, but it never did, for a word from Father Bhaer could at any
time produce a lull, and the lads had learned that liberty must not
be abused. So, in spite of many dark predictions, the school
flourished, and manners and morals were insinuated, without the
pupils exactly knowing how it was done.

Nat found himself very well off behind the tall pitchers, with
Tommy Bangs just around the corner, and Mrs. Bhaer close by to
fill up plate and mug as fast as he could empty them.

"Who is that boy next the girl down at the other end?" whispered
Nat to his young neighbor under cover of a general laugh.