Miss Lulu Bett

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Miss Lulu Bett, by Zona Gale


APRIL
The Deacons were at supper. In the middle of the table was a small, appealing tulip plant, looking as anything would look whose sun was a 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.
Well, what have we on the festive board to-night? he questioned, eyeing it. Festive was his favourite adjective. Beautiful, too. In October he might be heard asking: Where's my beautiful fall coat?
We 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 Could you leave me another bottle of milk this morning? would wring a milkman's heart.
Well, now, let us see, said Mr. Deacon, and attacked the principal dish benignly. Let us see, he added, as he served.
I don't want any, said Monona.
The child Monona was seated upon a book and a cushion, so that her little triangle of nose rose adultly above her plate. Her remark produced precisely the effect for which she had passionately hoped.
What's this? cried Mr. Deacon. No salmon?