e. But a factor of all
was that Lulu herself was the participant, not the onlooker. The
perfection of her dream was not impaired by any longing. She had her
dream as a saint her sense of heaven.

"Lulie!" her mother called. "You come out of that damp."

She obeyed, as she had obeyed that voice all her life. But she took one
last look down the dim street. She had not known it, but superimposed on
her Chautauqua thoughts had been her faint hope that it would be
to-night, while she was in the garden alone, that Ninian Deacon would
arrive. 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. In some corresponding orgy of
leisure and liberation, Lulu sat down with no needle.

"Inie ought to make over her delaine," Mrs. Bett comfortably began. They
talked of this, devised a mode, recalled other delaines. "Dear, dear,"
said Mrs. Bett, "I had on a delaine when I met your father." She
described it. Both women talked freely, with animation. They were
individuals and alive. To the two pallid beings accessory to the
Deacons' presence, Mrs. Bett and her daughter Lulu now bore no
relationship. They emerged, had opinions, contradicted, their eyes were
bright.

Toward nine o'clock Mrs. Bett announced that she thought she should have
a lunch. This was debauchery. She brought in bread-and-butter, and a
dish of cold canned peas. She was committing all the excesses that she
knew--offering opinions, laughing, eating. It was to be seen that this
woman had an immense store of vitality, perpetually submerged.

When she had eaten she grew sleepy--rather cross at the last and
inclined to hold up her sister's excellencies to Lulu; and, at Lulu's
defence, lifted an ancient weapon.

"What's the use of finding fault with Inie? Where'd you been if she
hadn't married?"

Lulu said nothing.

"What say?" Mrs. Bett demanded shrilly. She was enjoying it.

Lulu said no more. After a long time:

"You always was jealous of Inie," said Mrs. Bett, and went to her bed.

As soon as her mother's door had closed, Lulu took the lamp from its
bracket, stretching up her long body and her long arms until her skirt
lifte