“Well, for the land's sakes!” he protested. “I guess you're not the only one who likes sweet potatoes.”
Fanny applied a generous dab of butter to an already buttery morsel, and chewed it with an air of conscious virtue.
“I've got to eat a lot. This is the last bite I'll have until to-morrow night.”
“What's that?” exclaimed Mrs. Brandeis, sharply.
“Yes, it is!” hooted Theodore.
Fanny went on conscientiously eating as she explained.
“Bella Weinberg and I are going to fast all day. We just want to see if we can.”
“Betcha can't,” Theodore said.
Mrs. Brandeis regarded her small daughter with a thoughtful gaze. “But that isn't the object in fasting, Fanny—just to see if you can. If you're going to think of food all through the Yom Kippur services——”
“I sha'n't?” protested Fanny passionately. “Theodore would, but I won't.”