He and Ina and Monona were at dinner. Mrs. Bett was in her room. Di was not there.
"Anything about Lulu?" Ina asked.
"Lulu?" Dwight stared. "Why should I have anything to do about Lulu?"
"Well, but, Dwight—we've got to do something."
"As I told you this morning," he observed, "we shall do nothing. Your sister is of age—I don't know about the sound mind, but she is certainly of age. If she chooses to go away, she is free to go where she will."
"Yes, but, Dwight, where has she gone? Where could she go? Where—"
"You are a question-box," said Dwight playfully. "A question-box."
Ina had burned her plump wrist on the oven. She lifted her arm and nursed it.
"I'm certainly going to miss her if she stays away very long," she remarked.
"You should be sufficient unto your little self," said Dwight.