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"Vat 'bout dot bett you make mit me, Cabtin?" said Schenke. "Dot is all recht, no?" "Oh, yess," answered the old man, but without enthusiasm. "That stands." "Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Tventig dollars to feefty dot you goes home quicker as me, no?" Schencke turned to the other men. "Vat you tinks, yenthelmen? Ah tinks Ah sbend der tventig dollars now so sure Ah vass." The others laughed.

I could hear Temple rehearsing his German vocabulary, 'Brod, butter, wasser, fleisch, bett, as we stumbled along. Then it fell to 'Brod, wasser, bett, and then, 'Bett' by itself, his confession of fatigue.

Bett was standing on the porch. "Where's Lulie?" asked Mrs. Bett. They told. Mrs. Bett took it in, a bit at a time. Her pale eyes searched their faces, she shook her head, heard it again, grasped it. Her first question was: "Who's going to do your work?" Ina had thought of that, and this was manifest. "Oh," she said, "you and I'll have to manage." Mrs. Bett meditated, frowning.

And she had on her wool chally, her coral beads, her cameo pin.... She went into the lighted dining-room. Monona was in bed. Di was not there. Mrs. Bett was in Dwight Herbert's leather chair and she lolled at her ease. It was strange to see this woman, usually so erect and tense, now actually lolling, as if lolling were the positive, the vital, and her ordinary rigidity a negation of her.

They were having to wait for Di in any case they always had to wait for Di and at last, hardly believing in her own motions, Lulu was running to make ready. Mrs. Bett hurried to help her, but she took down the wrong things and they were both irritated. Lulu reappeared in the linen duster and a wide hat.

Lulu cried. "You didn't even tell me after he'd gone." "I forgot it," Mrs. Bett said, "finding Ninian's letter and all " She talked of Ninian's letter. Di was bright and alert and firm of flesh and erect before Lulu's softness and laxness. "I don't know what your mother'll say," said Lulu, "and I don't know what people'll think."

"I can play 'I Think When I Read That Sweet Story of Old," Lulu said. "That's the ticket!" cried Cornish. They sang it, to Lulu's right hand. "That's the one you picked out when you was a little girl, Lulie," cried, Mrs. Bett. Lulu had played it now as she must have played it then. Half after nine and Di had not returned. But nobody thought of Di. Cornish rose to go. "What's them?" Mrs.

He repeated the word morgen, and we insisted on zimmer and bett. 'He takes us for twin Caspar Hausers, sighed Temple. 'Nein, said the man, and, perhaps enlightened by hearing a foreign tongue, beckoned for us to step at his heels. His lodging was a woodman's hut.

He beat off the apples, and soon after, saw Mau-mau Bett come out and gather them up.

The year which saw the appearance of Main Street and Miss Lulu Bett saw also that of The Age of Innocence, Edith Wharton's acid delineation of the village of Manhattan in the genteel seventies, given over to the "innocence that seals the mind against imagination and the heart against experience"; saw Mary Borden's The Romantic Woman, with its cosmopolitan amusement at the village of Iroquois, otherwise Chicago; and saw Floyd Dell's Moon-Calf, which, standing on the other side of controversy, lacks not only the disposition to sentimentalize the village but even the disposition to ridicule it.