The laughter from the dining-room irritated him. He would be better off up-stairs, where he could not hear it. The noise in his ears was all he could stand. He attained the foot of the stairs and the flight of steps seemed as long and as misty as Jacob's Ladder. And he was no angel!
The Grouts lingered at dinner and over their black coffee and tobacco until it was time to dress for the reception at Mrs. Alvin Mitnick's, at which Waupoos society would pass itself in review. The later you got there the smarter you were, and most people put off dressing until the last possible minute in order to keep themselves from falling asleep before it was time to start.
The Grouts, however, were eager to go early and get it over with. They loved to trample on Waupoos traditions. As they drifted into the hall they found it dark. They shook their heads in dismal recognition of a familiar phenomenon, and Ethelwolf groaned:
"Pop has gone up-stairs. You can always trace Pop. Wherever he has passed by the lights are out."
"He has figured out that by darkening the halls while we are at dinner he saves nearly a cent a day," Mère groaned.
"If Pop were dying he'd turn out a light somewhere because he wouldn't need it." And Ethelwolf laughed.
But Mère groaned again: "Can you wonder that I get depressed? Now, children, I ask you—"
"Poor old Mère! It's awful!"—"Ghastly!"—"Maddening!"
They gathered round her lovingly, echoing her moans. They started up the dark stairway, Consuelo first and turning back to say to Beatrice:
"Pop can cut a penny into more slices than—" Then she screamed and started back.