na sighing.

"Let's see," said Di's father. "Where is little daughter to-night?"

He must have known that she was at Jenny Plow's at a tea party, for at
noon they had talked of nothing else; but this was his way. And Ina
played his game, always. She informed him, dutifully.

"Oh, _ho_," said he, absently. How could he be expected to keep his mind
on these domestic trifles.

"We told you that this noon," said Lulu.

He frowned, disregarded her. Lulu had no delicacy.

"How much is salmon the can now?" he inquired abruptly--this was one of
his forms of speech, the can, the pound, the cord.

His partner supplied this information with admirable promptness. Large
size, small size, present price, former price--she had them all.

"Dear me," said Mr. Deacon. "That is very nearly salmoney, isn't it?"

"Herbert!" his Ina admonished, in gentle, gentle reproach. Mr. Deacon
punned, organically. In talk he often fell silent and then asked some
question, schemed to permit his vice to flourish. Mrs. Deacon's return
was always automatic: "_Her_bert!"

"Whose Bert?" he said to this. "I thought I was your Bert."

She shook her little head. "You are a case," she told him. He beamed
upon her. It was his intention to be a case.

Lulu ventured in upon this pleasantry, and cleared her throat. She was
not hoarse, but she was always clearing her throat.

"The butter is about all gone," she observed. "Shall I wait for the
butter-woman or get some creamery?"

Mr. Deacon now felt his little jocularities lost before a wall of the
matter of fact. He was not pleased. He saw himself as the light of his
home, bringer of brightness, lightener of dull hours. It was a pretty
role. He insisted upon it. To maintain it intact, it was necessary to
turn upon their sister with concentrated irritation.

"Kindly settle these matters without bringing them to my attention at
meal-time," he said icily.

Lulu flushed and was silent. She was an olive woman, once handsome, now
with flat, bluish shadows under her wistful eyes. And if only she would
look at her brother Herbert and say something. But she looked in her
plate.

"I want some honey," shouted the child, Monona.

"There isn't any, Pet," said Lulu.

"I want some," said Monona, eyeing her stonily. But she found that her
hair-ribbon could be pulled forward to meet her lips, and she embarked
on the biting of an end. Lulu departed for some sauce and cake. It was
apple sauce. Mr. Deacon remarked