“Surprise! What sort of surprise would Zuba and I plan? She's had one surprise in the last six weeks and that ought to be enough. Laban's droppin' in unexpected was surprise enough to keep you satisfied, wasn't it, Zuba? I never saw anybody more surprised than you was that night in the kitchen. Ho! ho!”
Azuba smiled grimly. “A few more surprises like that,” she observed, “and I'll be surprised to death. Don't talk to ME about surprises.”
“I wasn't talkin' about 'em, 'twas Serena that started it.”
Mrs. Dott was still suspicious. She turned to her daughter.
“Gertie,” she asked, “do YOU know what your father is acting so ridiculous about? Is there a secret between you three?”
Gertrude had been very quiet and grave during the meal.
“No,” she said. “There is no secret that I know of. Father is happy because we are back here in his beloved Trumet, I suppose.”
“Humph! Well, his happiness hasn't interfered with his appetite before. There's something else; I'm sure of it. Why, Gertie! aren't you going to eat, either? You're not through luncheon!”
The young lady had risen from the table.
“You've eaten scarcely anything, Gertie,” protested her mother. “I never saw such people. Are YOU so happy that you can't eat. Sit down.”