"Everyone'll see that it's the old thing you've been wearing since I dunno when."
Accustomed to this plaint, Lizzie thought it useless to reply.
"I'd rather not have a rag to wear than a thing everyone's sick of the sight of. Momma, why can't I have a new dress, right out and out?"
"My darling, you'll have a new dress when your father gets his raise. It must come before long; but I can't possibly give it you till then."
"I wish you'd stop talking," came from Gladys, who was busy with her lessons in a corner. "How can I study with all this row going on? Momma, what's the meaning of 'coagulation'?"
Coagulation explained, the fitting finished, and a dispute adjusted between the two children, Lizzie began to spread the table for supper, Gussie helping her. Most of the downstairs portion of the house being thrown into one large living room, the dining table stood at the end nearest the kitchen and pantry. It was a pleasure to watch the supple movements of Gussie's figure, and the flittings of her slim-wristed hands as she took the plates and laid them in their places. Most people said she would one day be prettier than Jennie, but as yet that was only promise.
Quite apparent was the fact that the mother had been more beautiful than any of her daughters was ever likely to become. At fifty-odd, it was a beauty that still had youth in it. Worn with the duties of providing for a husband and four children, it retained a quality proud and aloof. In her scouring and cooking and endless domestic round, Lizzie was like an actress dressed and made up for a humble part rather than really living it. The Scarborough tradition, which had first refused to bend to king against people and again to yield to people against king, had survived in this woman fighting for her inner life against failure, poverty, and sordidness.
She was singing at her work when the front door opened and Josiah came in. He stood for a minute in the little entry, surveying the living-room absently, while Pansy pranced about his feet. Gladys was still at her lessons, Gussie laying out the knives and forks.
"Where's your mother?"
Gladys jumped up and ran to him. She was his youngest, his darling, just over twelve. He had always hoped to do better by her than by the older ones.