Mary-'Gusta smiled cheerfully.
“Oh, yes, there is,” she said. “There's a real nice one in the bottom drawer of the closet. I've been huntin' and I found it. Come and see.”
She led him into the dining-room and showed him the cloth she had found.
“It's a real pretty one, I think,” she said. “Shall we put it on, Mr. Chase?”
“No, no, course not. That's the best tablecloth. Don't use that only when there's company—or Sundays.”
Mary-'Gusta considered. She counted on her fingers.
“How long have we used this dirty one?” she asked.
“Eh? Oh, I don't know. Four or five days, maybe.” Then, evidently feeling that the repetition of the “we” implied a sense of unwarranted partnership in the household management, he added with dignity, “That is, I'VE seen fit to use it that long.”
The sarcasm was wasted. The girl smiled and nodded.
“That makes it all right,” she declared. “If we put this one on now it'll be Sunday long before it's time to change. And we can wash the other one today or tomorrow.”