Now, Barty was a very good reader for his age. He had to spell very few words when he read aloud, so he sat down at once on the attic floor and began to read about Robinson Crusoe as fast as ever he could. That day he was late to his dinner and was late for bed, and as the days went on he was late so often that his mother thought he must be losing his appetite. But he was not. He was only so delighted with Robinson Crusoe that he could not remember the time.