"Yes," he agreed. "It doesn't smell bad, what!"
"It smells good!" said the boy. "Oh, doesn't it! Wake me up in the night and ask me if it doesn't!"
"Poulet en casserole," said Archie.
"Golly!" said the boy, reverently.
There was a pause. The situation began to seem to Archie a trifle difficult. He wanted to start his meal, but it began to appear that he must either do so under the penetrating gaze of his new friend or else eject the latter forcibly. The boy showed no signs of ever wanting to leave the doorway.
"You've dined, I suppose, what?" said Archie.
"I never dine."
"What!"
"Not really dine, I mean. I only get vegetables and nuts and things."
"Dieting?"
"Mother is."
"I don't absolutely catch the drift, old bean," said Archie. The boy sniffed with half-closed eyes as a wave of perfume from the poulet en casserole floated past him. He seemed to be anxious to intercept as much of it as possible before it got through the door.
"Mother's a food-reformer," he vouchsafed. "She lectures on it. She makes pop and me live on vegetables and nuts and things."
Archie was shocked. It was like listening to a tale from the abyss.
"My dear old chap, you must suffer agonies—absolute shooting pains!" He had no hesitation now. Common
