Hereafter we'll have proteins, fats, and carbohydrates made into calory croquettes, and--" "Bertram!" scolded Billy.
But Bertram would not be silenced.
"Here, just let me take that book," he insisted, dragging the volume from Billy's reluctant fingers.

"Now, William, listen.

Here's your breakfast to-morrow morning: strawberries, 100 calories; whole-wheat bread, 75 calories; butter, 100 calories (no second helping, mind you, or you'd ruin the balance and something would topple); boiled eggs, 200 calories; cocoa, 100 calories--which all comes to 570 calories.

Sounds like an English bill of fare with a new kind of foreign money, but 'tisn't, really, you know.

Now for luncheon you can have tomato soup, 50 calories; potato salad--that's cheap, only 30 calories, and--" But Billy pulled the book away then, and in righteous indignation carried it to the kitchen.
"You don't deserve anything to eat," she declared with dignity, as she returned to the dining-room.
"No ?" queried Bertram, his eyebrows uplifted.