It added pleasantly to his sense of importance to feel that some one, there in the parlour, was waiting his motion. At length they rose. Monona flung herself upon her father. He put her aside firmly, every inch the father. No, no. Father was occupied now. Mrs. Deacon coaxed her away. Monona encircled her mother's waist, lifted her own feet from the floor and hung upon her.

They glided toward the shore in a huff. Monona found that she enjoyed crying across the water and kept it up. It was almost as good as an echo. Ina, stepping safe to the sands, cried ungratefully that this was the last time that she would ever, ever go with her husband anywhere. Ever.

The child Monona uttered a cutting shriek. Herbert's eyes flew not only to the child but to his wife. What was this, was their progeny hurt? "Bedtime," his wife elucidated, and added: "Lulu, will you take her to bed? I'm pretty tired." Lulu rose and took Monona by the hand, the child hanging back and shaking her straight hair in an unconvincing negative.

Bett was in best black and ruches, and she seized upon Monona and patted her, as her own form of social expression; and Monona wriggled like a puppy, as hers. "Quiet, pettie," said Ina, eyebrows up. She caught her lower lip in her teeth. "Well, sir," said Dwight, "you wouldn't think it to look at us, but mother had her hands pretty full, bringing us up." Into Dwight's face came another look.

"Down the walk. Down the sidewalk." "She must have gone to Jenny's," said Lulu. "I wish she wouldn't do that without telling me." Monona laughed out and shook her straight hair. "She'll catch it!" she cried in sisterly enjoyment. It was when Lulu had come back from the kitchen and was seated at the table that Mrs. Bett observed: "I didn't think Inie'd want her to take her nice new satchel."

For Monona the drama never lost its zest. It never occurred to the others to let her sit without eating, once, as a cure-all. The Deacons were devoted parents and the child Monona was delicate. She had a white, grave face, white hair, white eyebrows, white lashes. She was sullen, anaemic. They let her wear rings. She "toed in."

Oh, the Plows were coming to tea. How unfortunate, she thought. How fortunate, she said. The child Monona made her knees and elbows stiff and danced up and down. She must, she must participate. "Aunt Lulu made three pies!" she screamed, and shook her straight hair. "Gracious sakes," said Ninian. "I brought her a pup, and if I didn't forget to give it to her."

Lulu slipped by her sister, and into the kitchen. "Well, where have you, been?" cried Ina. "I declare, I never saw such a family. Mamma don't know anything and neither of you will tell anything." "Mamma knows a-plenty," snapped Mrs. Bett. Monona, who was eating a sticky gift, jumped stiffly up and down. "You'll catch it you'll catch it!" she sent out her shrill general warning. Mrs.

The rules of the ordinary sports of the playground, scrupulously applied, would have clarified the ethical atmosphere of this little family. But there was no one to apply them. When Di and Monona had been excused, Dwight asked: "Nothing new from the bride and groom?" "No. And, Dwight, it's been a week since the last." "See where were they then?"

Monona, making a silly, semi-articulate observation, was enchanted to have Lulu burst into laughter and squeeze her hand. Di contributed her bright presence, and Bobby Larkin appeared from nowhere, running, with a gigantic bag of fruit. "Bullylujah!" he shouted, and Lulu could have shouted with him. She sought for some utterance. She wanted to talk with Ninian.