The Neshoba Democrat., 1922-09-14
April.

Ane OedcOnS were at supper. In
the middle of the table was a smali,
appealing tulip plant, looking as any
thing would look whose sun was
gas jet. This gas Jet was High above
the table and flared with a sound.
Better turn, down the gas jest a
little" Mr.. Deacon said, and stretched
up to do so. He made this joke almost
every night He seldom spoke as a
man speaks who has something to say,
but as a man who makes something
to say.
swell, what have we on the festive
board tonight?" he questioned, eyeing
1t. Festive" was his favorite adjec-
tive. Beautiful" too. In October he
might be heard asking: where's my
beautiful fall coat?'
"We have ereamed salmon replied
Mrs. Deacon gently. "On toast she
added, with scrupulous regard for
the whole truth. Why she should say
this so gently no, one can tell She
says everything gently. Her Gould
you leave me another bottle of milk
this morning?" would wiring a milk
mans heart.
"Well, now, let us see" said Mr..
Deacon, and attacked the principal
dish benignly. "Let us see. he added
as he served.
II don't want any," said Monona.
The child Monona was seated upon
q book and cushion, so that her
little triangle of nose rose adultly
above her plate. Her remark pro-
duced precisely the effect for which
she had passionately hoped.
whats this?" cried Mr.. Deacon
mo salmon?"
NO." said Monona, infected up,
chin pertly pointed. She felt hea
power, discarded her ssir."
"Oh now, Petl" from Mrs. Deacon
on three notes. 'You liked it before"
Il don't want any" said Monona In
precisely her original tone.
"Just a little? A very llttle?" Mr..
Deacon persuaded, spoon dripping.
The child Monona made her lips thin
and straight and shook her head until
her straight hair tapped In her eyes
on either side. Mr.. Deacon's eyes anx-
iously consulted his wife's eyes. What
Is this? Their progeny will not eat?
What can be supplied?
''Some bread and milk p cried Mrs.
Deacon brightly, exploding on ''bread."
One wondered how she thought of 1t.
''No," said Monona, infection up,
chin the same. She was affecting In
difference to this scene, In which her
soul delighted. She twisted her head,
bit her lips unconcernedly and turned
her eyes to the remote.
There emerged from the fringe of
things. where she perpetually hovered,
Mrs. Deacon's older sister, Lulu Eett,
who was making her home with u.s."
And that was precisely the case They
were not making her home, good
ness knows. Lulu was the family
beast Of burden.
"Can't make her a little milk
toast?" she asked Mrs. Deacon
Mrs. Deacon hesitated, not with
conjunction at accepting Lulu's offer,
not automatically to lure Monona
But she hesltated habitually, by ma
ture, as another is by nature vivacious
or brunette.
"Yesl" shouted the child Monona.
The tension relaxed. Mrs. Deacon
assented. Lulu went to the kitchen.
Mr.. Deacon served on. Something of
this scene was enacted every day. For
Monona the drama never lost it's zest.
It never occurred to the others to let
her sit without eating once, as cure
all. The Deacons were devoted par
ents and the child Monona was DELI
cate. She had white, grave face
white hair, white eyebrows, white
lashes. She was sullen, anemic. They
let her wear rings She "toed in"
The poor child was the late birth of
a late marriage and the principal joy
which she had provided for them thus
far was the pleased reflection that
they had produced her at all.
"Where's your mother, InaY Mr..
Deacon inquired. isn't she coming
to her supper?'
"Tantrim," said Mrs. Deacon softly.
"Oh, ho," said he, and said no more.
The temper Of Mrs. Bett, who also
lived with them, had days Of high vi
bration when she absentcd herself
from the table as kind of self
indulgence, and no one could persuade
her to food 4Tantrims," they called
these occasions.
'iBaked potatoes said Mr. Deacon.
'aThat's good--that's good The baked
potato contains more nourishment
than potatoes prepared In any other
way. The nourishment Is next to the
skin. Roasting retains it."
"That's what / always think" said
his wife pleasantly.
For fifteen years they had agreed
about this
They ate, In the indecent silence Of
flrst savoring food. A delicate crunch
Ing of crusts~<an odor of baked potato
shells the slip and touch of the
silver.
mum, mum. mummy mum = sang the
child Monnna loudly and was hushed
a1ss~ - -