Without a word, Anne picked up the plates and went into the kitchen. Hilda followed.
"If he only wouldn't get down behind that pretense of having done it all for us, I might respect him, moms. But he just burrows into that hole like a gopher and you can't get him out."
"Well, after all, dear, I don't suppose he would have stuck if it hadn't been for us. He'd have gotten into some kind of a gambling scheme long ago. After all, he brings home most of his salary most of the time."
And Anne saw herself a small girl watching her mother dividing the contents of the pay envelope, counting and recounting and finally tying up each little package in tissue paper, as if to keep the tiny allotments from spending themselves in another department. They had hurt to tears, those thin little allotments, and her mother's sigh as she gathered them up and went humming about the housework. Anne did not answer and they did the dishes in silence until the phone rang. Hilda came from answering it with such a look of relief that Anne smiled.
"Belle?"
"Yes. She's got an hour off and is coming up."
Anne wiped the last glass and put it away.
"Well, I'm all in and I'm going to bed. The autopsy will have to take place without the corpse." The smile deepened as she kissed her mother. "All nice and safe again, moms?"
"I don't care what you say, Belle has a practical mind. She always seems to know what to do."
"As if we had a fever or a dose of colic."