"Yes, thanks, dear," and to her brother, "After all, Ebbie, Forrie probably knows his own business best. You know he's quite partial to the squatters and always did things for 'em."
Mrs. Waldstricker summoned the servant, and while the dishes were being removed, Ebenezer sat and glowered from Frederick, white and distrait, to his wife, who was explaining to Madelene the way she'd made the salad dressing. When the servant had gone, Waldstricker began again.
"I'm out of patience with Deforrest! If he'd let me alone, I'd had all the squatters off the lake side before this and probably would have located Bishop."
"You've heard nothing of him, Ebbie, I suppose?" asked Madelene. "It does seem queer a dwarf could disappear like that and not a word about him from any part of the world."
Waldstricker's powerful hand clenched the teaspoon in his fingers so violently as to bend the handle.
"No, I haven't," he growled. "I've a notion he's being harbored by some of the squatters. But I want Deforrest to understand this—"
"Oh, let's talk of something else besides squatters," cried Madelene. "Helen, your salad was divine.... Tell me, Ebbie, how you enjoy little Elsie. I think she's lovely."
"Lovely!" he repeated in a very different tone. "Lovely is no word for that child. She's an angel, isn't she, Helen?"
Helen smiled dubiously.
"An angel, very much spoiled, I fear."