e.

[Illustration:
"Some of the Madigans"]

But to-night a most painful and ostentatious respect marked Sissy's
manner to her parent. She stood markedly,--while the others scrambled
into their chairs and Wong, the Chinese servant, sped about placing
everything on the table at once,--waiting for her father to be seated.

She was still waiting politely when his eye lighted upon her. "Sit down,
Cecilia!" he roared; "what d' ye want, gaping there?"

Sissy sat down. So holy was she that she did not resent (openly) the
low, delighted giggle Irene gave. She began to be politely attentive to
Dusie, her father's pet canary, though she loathed the spoiled little
thing that hopped about the table helping itself.

Madigan had a way of telling himself, in his rare moments of
introspection, that the tenderness he might have lavished upon a son he
spent upon the male offspring of more fortunate genera than man. The big
Newfoundland and the great cat came to meals regularly. They shared
Madigan's affection with the birds (whose cage, big as a dog's house, he
had himself nailed up against the side of the wall), that broke into a
maddening din of song, excited by the rival clatter of young Madigans
dining.

Protected by this shrill symphony from the sound of his daughters'
voices, Madigan fed his dog, his cat, and his favorite canary, and with
his head upon one hand, in token of his abiding disgust with the human,
daughterful world, ate quickly with the other.

This pose was the signal that freed the feminine Madigan tongue. Usually
they all broke into conversation at once; but on this evening there
seemed to be some agreement which held them mute till Irene spoke.

"I am glad to see you be so patient with papa, Sissy," she said gently.

His third daughter glanced apprehensively at Madigan. But her father had
retired within his shell, and nothing but a cataclysm could reach him
there.

"Why--" she said, puzzled, "why--I--"

"Promise me that you'll try to stand him," urged Split, joyously.

"And that you'll help me control my temper, and not mock and aggravate
me when I sulk," chanted Kate.

Sissy dropped her knife and fork, and her hands flew to her bosom, not
in wrath, but in terror. The crackling testament was gone!

"Split! You--"

"Try to bear with me, won't you, Sis, even if I am a devil?" grinned
Split.

"And set us a good example, Sissy," piped the twins.

Sissy gasped.

"Be a yittle muvver to Fw