Aunt Martha did not. She merely said in her fretful mumbling way, “What foolishness are you young rips up to now?” and thought no more about it. Mr. Meredith had gone away early in the morning before any one was up. He went without his breakfast, too, but that was, of course, of common occurrence. Half of the time he forgot it and there was no one to remind him of it. Breakfast—Aunt Martha’s breakfast—was not a hard meal to miss. Even the hungry “young rips” did not feel it any great deprivation to abstain from the “lumpy porridge and blue milk” which had aroused the scorn of Mary Vance. But it was different at dinner time. They were furiously hungry then, and the odor of roast beef which pervaded the manse, and which was wholly delightful in spite of the fact that the roast beef was badly underdone, was almost more than they could stand.