"I don't want to starve," answered Wilkins, significantly. "You'll
get used to it in time."

Hector tried to dispose of a second spoonful, but he had to give it
up. At home he was accustomed to a luxurious table, and this meal
seemed to be a mere mockery. Yet he felt hungry. So he took up the
piece of bread at the side of his plate, and, though it was dry, he
succeeded in eating it.

By this time his left-hand neighbor, a boy named Colburn, had
finished his soup. He looked longingly at Hector's almost untasted
plate.

"Ain't you going to eat your soup?" he asked, in a hoarse whisper

"No."

"Give it to me?"

"Yes."

In a trice, Colburn had appropriated Hector's plate and put his own
empty one in its place. Just after this transfer had been made, Mr.
Smith looked over to where Hector was sitting. He observed the empty
plate, and said to himself: "That new boy has been gorging himself.
He must have a terrible appetite. Well, that's one good thing, he
ain't dainty. Some boys turn up their noses at plain, wholesome
diet. I didn't know but he might."