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Updated: May 18, 2025
These ethical balances having been nicely struck, Ina proposed another: "But," she said, "but, you must eat more supper or you can not go." "I don't want any more." Monona's look was honest and piteous. "Makes no difference. You must eat or you'll get sick." "No!" "Very well, then. No ice cream soda for such a little girl." Monona began to cry quietly. But she passed her plate.
And don't let mother overdo. And, Lulu, now do watch Monona's handkerchief the child will never take a clean one if I'm not here to tell her...." She breathed injunctions to the very step of the 'bus. In the 'bus Dwight leaned forward: "See that you play post-office squarely, Lulu!" he called, and threw back his head and lifted his eyebrows. In the train he turned tragic eyes to his wife.
Why not all have ice cream...." He was all gentleness and propitiation, the reconciling element in his home. "Me too?" Monona's ardent hope, her terrible fear were in her eyebrows, her parted lips. "You too, certainly." Dwight could not do enough for every one. Monona clapped her hands. "Goody! goody! Last time you wouldn't let me go." "That's why papa's going to take you this time," Ina said.
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