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"You liked it before." "I don't want any," said Monona, in precisely her original tone. "Just a little? A very little?" Mr. Deacon persuaded, spoon dripping; The child Monona made her lips thin and straight and shook her head until her straight hair flapped in her eyes on either side. Mr. Deacon's eyes anxiously consulted his wife's eyes. What is this? Their progeny will not eat?
The child Monona was seated upon a book and a cushion, so that her little triangle of nose rose adultly above her plate. Her remark produced precisely the effect for which she had passionately hoped. "What's this?" cried Mr. Deacon. "No salmon?" "No," said Monona, inflected up, chin pertly pointed. She felt her power, discarded her "sir." "Oh now, Pet!" from Mrs. Deacon, on three notes.
About it he was as conscienceless as a savage. This was no fancy spun to pleasure a child. This was like lying, for its own sake. He went on talking with Lulu, and now again he was the tease, the braggart, the unbridled, unmodified male. Monona stood in the circle of his arm. The little being was attentive, softened, subdued. Some pretty, faint light visited her.
Can't we have a secret if we want one?" "Upon my word," Dwight commented, "she has a beautiful secret. I don't know about your secrets, Lulu." Every time that he did this, that fleet, lifted look of Lulu's seemed to bleed. "I'm glad for my dinner," remarked Monona at last. "Please excuse me." On that they all rose. Lulu stayed in the kitchen and did her best to make her tasks indefinitely last.
They adjourned to the porch Ninian, Ina, Monona. The puppy was presented, and yawned. The party kept on about "the place." Ina delightedly exhibited the tomatoes, the two apple trees, the new shed, the bird bath. Ninian said the un-spellable "m m," rising inflection, and the "I see," prolonging the verb as was expected of him.
"No more," he cried briefly, with a slight bend of his head. "Lulu meant no harm," he added, and smiled at Lulu. There was a moment's silence into which Monona injected a loud "Num, num, num-my-num," as if she were the burden of an Elizabethan lyric. She seemed to close the incident. But the burden was cut off untimely. There was, her father reminded her portentously, company in the parlour.
Lulu had carried it there, where she need not see it at her work. The letter looked no more than the advertisement of dental office furniture beneath it. Monona stood indifferently fingering both. "Monona," Lulu said sharply, "leave them be!" Cornish was displaying his music. "Got up quite attractive," he said it was his formula of praise for his music.
But the child Monona felt herself lifted and borne to the stairway and the door was shut with violence. On the dark stairway Lulu's arms closed about her in an embrace which left her breathless and squeaking. And yet Lulu was not really fond of the child Monona, either. This was a discharge of emotion akin, say, to slamming the door. Lulu was dusting the parlour.
Ina, too, became breezy, blithe. Monona caught their spirit and laughed, head thrown well back and gently shaken. Di came in. She had been told that Auntie Lulu was at home, and that she, Di, wasn't to say anything to her about anything, nor anything to anybody else about Auntie Lulu being back. Under these prohibitions, which loosed a thousand speculations, Di was very nearly paralysed.
Evidently she rather enjoyed the situation, creating for herself a spot-light much in the manner of Monona. "Mother," said Lulu, "let me make you some toast and tea." Mrs. Bett turned her gentle, bloodless face toward her daughter, and her eyes warmed. "After a little, maybe," she said. "I think I'll run over to see Grandma Gates now," she added, and went toward the door.
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