"Some people don't have anything half as good," said Polly,
starting for the stairs.

"What don't they have?" asked Joel in alarm, as he watched her
go.

"Oh, I don't know; different things. Da-_vid!_" she called.

"You said they didn't have things half as good," said Joel,
stopping with a spoonful of porridge halfway to his mouth. "So
you know what they are, now, Polly Pepper."

"Oh, well, they don't. Plenty and plenty of people don't get
near as good things as we have every day for breakfast."

"What are they, the things the plenty and plenty of people get?"
persisted Joel, beginning on his breakfast comfortably, since
Polly was going to talk.

"Oh--let me see," said Polly, pausing at the foot of the stairs.
"Old bread, for one thing."

"Is it mouldy?" asked Joel.

"Um--yes, I s'pose so," answered Polly, wrinkling up her face.
"Eat your own breakfast, Joe, and not stop to think of what
other people have. Da-_vid!_'"

"You said 'things,'" said Joel, severely, "and you only told me
mouldy old bread, Polly Pepper! What else?"