There was certainly nothing amiss in the manner of the cooking or serving of the shad, and the presence of this particular fish at the table did not strike Plaisted as unusual, until Mr. Sherwood asked if he would be "helped to shad."
His mind by this time had become almost normal, but that one word threw him back into his former state, and brought again that tormenting refrain, "Dear Shadrach! my Shad!" He glared at the dish containing the fish as if he would annihilate it; but, hastily collecting his scattering senses, he took the plate Mr. Sherwood passed him, thinking it a strange coincidence that the never-till-now hated fish should be thrust before him at this moment. He tried to be his natural self, but those haunting lines had full possession of him, and every mouthful seemed to choke him.
Dexie was watching him closely, and felt sure that his abstraction was due to the one cause, and she silently enjoyed his discomfiture.
Gussie, who sat opposite, also noticed it, and remembering her promise to Dexie, began:
"Oh! Mr. Plaisted, I'm afraid you do not care for shad! How unfortunate that we happen to have it for dinner to-day! We are all very fond of shad, myself especially, and this is very nicely cooked, just to my liking," and she gave Dexie a sideward look.
"Yes, we all like shad, even to the cat," said the irrepressible Georgie. "I found her with her nose in the basket the first thing."
"Be quiet, sir!" said the father sternly, and Georgie obediently subsided, while Dexie could hardly repress a giggle.
"Let me help you to another piece, Plaisted," said Mr. Sherwood. "What! not any more? It is not often we get such good shad in an inland town. Halifax is the place for fine shad! In the season, when the catch is fair, you can get your pick for a song almost, but here, I expect, their scarcity makes them of more value."
"Yes," replied Dexie, "they are rather dear, dear shad," and she looked intently at her plate, well knowing how Plaisted was glaring at her. "Yes," she added, "I call them dear shad when one has to pick over such a quantity of bones before getting a satisfactory mouthful, don't you, Mr. Plaisted?" But Mr. Plaisted laid down his knife and fork, and returned her look with interest.
"I fear you are not making a dinner at all, Mr. Plaisted," Mrs. Sherwood put in. "You do not seem to care for shad."