The Glenwood post., 1922-08-10

tie Uiuule OF tne table was small,
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 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 lie seldom spoke as IL
man speaks who has something to say,
but as a man who makes something
to say.
''Well, what have we on the festive
board tonight?' he questioned. cycling
it. "Festive" was his favorite adjec-
tive. beautiful" too. In October he
might he heard asking: "Where's my
beautiful fall coatY'
ave have creamed salmon" replied
Mrs. Deacon gently. "On toast" she
added, with a 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 ..Ir.
Deacon, and attacked the principal
dish benignly. Let us see" he added.
as he served
81 don't want any" said Monona.
The child Monona was seated upon
book and a 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
No salmon?"
"No,' said Monona, infected up,
chin pertly pointed. She felt hei
power, discarded her "sir."
'Oh now, Pet!" from Mrs. Deacon.
on three notes. "You liked it before"
81 don't want any" said Monona, In
precisely her original tone.
"Just 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 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 milkr' cried Mrs
Deacon brightly, exploding on bread"
une 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 lowered
Mrs. Deacon's older sister. Lulu Bett
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.
Cant make her little milk
toast?' she asked Mrs. Deacon.
Mrs. Deacon hesitated. not with
compunction at accepting Lulu's offer,
not automatically to lure MOnona.
But she hesitated habitually, by ma
ture. as another is by nature vivacious
or brunette.
Yes 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
1t never occurred to the others to let
her sit without eating once. as q cure
all. The Dencons were devoted par
ents and the child Monona was deli
cate. She had II 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
late marriage and the principal joy
which she had provided for them thus
far was the pleased reflection that
they had produced her Mt ALL
"Wheres your mother Ina?" Mr..
Deacon inquired isn't she coming
to her supper?"
'Tantrim," said Mrs. Deacon softly.
"Oh, no." said he, and said no more
The temper of Mrs. Bett, who also
lived with them, had days OF high vi
bratiOn when she absented herself
from the table as n kind of self
indulgence, and no one could persuade
her to food. "Tantrims," they called
these occasions.
Baked potatoes" said Mr.. Deacon.
"That's good-thats 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
first savoring food. A delicate crunch
ing of crusts. an odor OF baked-potato
Shells the slip and touch Of the
silver.
Nun. mum, nummy-num I" sang the