eautiful courtesy--the really sincere kind--tried to patch up
one quarrel after another and failed. He rose superbly to the occasion,
and made something that he called a South American goulash for luncheon,
although it was too salty, and every one was thirsty the rest of the
day.

Bella was horrid, of course. She froze Jim until he said he was going to
sit in the refrigerator and cool the butter. She locked herself in the
dressing room--it had been assigned to me, but that made no difference
to Bella--and did her nails, and took three different baths, and refused
to come to the table. And of course Jimmy was wild, and said she would
starve. But I said, "Very well, let her starve. Not a tray shall leave
my kitchen." It was a comfort to have her shut up there anyhow; it
postponed the time when she would come face to face with Flannigan.

Aunt Selina got sick that day, as I have said. I was not so bitter as
the others; I did not say that I wished she would die. The worst I ever
wished her was that she might be quite ill for some time, and yet, when
she began to recover, she was dreadful to me. She said for one thing,
that it was the hard-boiled eggs and the state of the house that did
it, and when I said that the grippe was a germ, she retorted that I had
probably brought it to her on my clothing.

You remember that Betty had drawn the nurse's slip, and how pleased she
had been about it. She got up early the morning of the first day
and made herself a lawn cap and telephoned out for a white nurse's
uniform--that is, of course, for a white uniform for a nurse. She really
looked very fetching, and she went around all the morning with a red
cross on her sleeve and a Saint Cecilia expression, gathering up bottles
of medicine--most of it flesh reducer, which was pathetic, and closing
windows for fear of drafts. She refused to help with the house work, and
looked quite exalted, but by afternoon it had palled on her somewhat,
and she and Max shook dice.

Betty was really pleased when Aunt Selina sent for her. She took in a
bottle of cologne to bathe her brow, and we all stood outside the door
and listened. Betty tiptoed in in her pretty cap and apron, and we heard
her cautiously draw down the shades.

"What are you doing that for?" Aunt Selina demanded. "I like the light."

"It's bad for your poor eyes," Betty's tone was exactly the proper
bedside pitch, low and sugary.

"Sweet and low, sweet and low, wind of the western s