Her remark
produced precisely the effect for which she had passionately hoped.
"_What's_ this?" cried Mr. Deacon. "_No_ salmon?"
"No," said Monona, inflected up, chin pertly pointed. She felt her
power, discarded her "sir."
"Oh now, Pet!" from Mrs. Deacon, on three notes. "You liked it before."
"I don't want any," said Monona, in precisely her original tone.
"Just a little? A very little?" Mr. Deacon persuaded, spoon dripping;
The child Monona made her lips thin and straight and shook her head
until her straight hair flapped in her eyes on either side. Mr. Deacon's
eyes anxiously consulted his wife's eyes. What is this? Their progeny
will not eat? What can be supplied?
"Some bread and milk!" cried Mrs. Deacon brightly, exploding on "bread."
One wondered how she thought of it.
"No," said Monona, inflection up, chin the same. She was affecting
indifference to, this scene, in which her soul delighted. She twisted
her head, bit her lips unconcernedly, and turned her eyes to the remote.
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