"Well, you are. Why don't I send her over a baked apple? Monona, you
take Grandma Gates a baked apple--no. You shan't go till you drink your
milk."
"I don't want it."
"Drink it or mamma won't let you go."
Monona drank it, made a piteous face, took the baked apple, ran.
"The apple isn't very good," said Ina, "but it shows my good will."
"Also," said Dwight, "it teaches Monona a life of thoughtfulness for
others."
"That's what I always think," his Ina said.
"Can't you get mother to come out?" Dwight inquired.
"I had so much to do getting dinner onto the table, I didn't try," Ina
confessed.
"You didn't have to try," Mrs. Bett's voice sounded. "I was coming when
I got rested up."
She entered, looking vaguely about. "I want Lulie," she said, and the
corners of her mouth drew down. She ate her dinner cold, appeased in
vague areas by such martyrdom. They were still at table when the front
door opened.
"Monona hadn't ought to use the front door so common," Mrs. Bett
complained.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213