Beautiful it was to see Ina relax, soften, warm, transform, humanise. It
gave one hope for the whole species.
"Ninian!" she cried. She lent a faint impression of the double _e_ to
the initial vowel. She slurred the rest, until the _y_ sound squinted
in. Not Neenyun, but nearly Neenyun.
He kissed her.
"Since Dwight isn't here!" she cried, and shook her finger at him. Ina's
conception of hostess-ship was definite: A volley of questions--was his
train on time? He had found the house all right? Of course! Any one
could direct him, she should hope. And he hadn't seen Dwight? She must
telephone him. But then she arrested herself with a sharp, curved fling
of her starched skirts. No! They would surprise him at tea--she stood
taut, lips compressed. Oh, the Plows were coming to tea. How
unfortunate, she thought. How fortunate, she said.
The child Monona made her knees and elbows stiff and danced up and down.
She must, she must participate.
"Aunt Lulu made three pies!" she screamed, and shook her straight hair.
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