“I’m only a step-daughter!” cried Frances.
“You mean, a daughter-in-law!” Otto put in, with a laugh.
“A step-daughter!” Frances repeated, trembling with nervous irritation. “You’re a daughter. Your place is at the dinner.”
“Frances, I assure you, I’m not going in to dinner,” said Louise, quietly but decidedly.
“Oh, shut up, Frances!” said Otto.
But Frances wanted to get angry, about nothing, merely for the sake of working herself up. She scolded the baboe, pushed the children out of her way, broke a fan:
“There, I’ve smashed the rotten thing!”
“Is that your new fan?” asked Otto, furiously.
“Yes. R-r-rootsh!... There, it’s in shreds!”
He flew into a rage: