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proceeded, Travis supervising everything that went
forward, even giving directions to Victorine as to the hour for serving
dinner. It was while she was talking to Victorine as to this matter that
Snooky began to whine. "Stop!" "And tell Maggie," pursued Travis, "to
fricassee her chicken, and not to have it too well done--" "Sto-o-op!"
whined Snooky again. "And leave the heart out for Papum. He likes the
heart--" "Sto-o-op!" "Unbiassed by prejudice," murmured Mr.
Bessemer, "vigorous and to the point. I'll have another roll." "Pa, make
Howard stop!" "Howard!" exclaimed Travis; "what is it now?"
"Howard's squirting watermelon-seeds at me," whined Snooky, "and Pa
won't make him stop." "Oh, I didn't so!" vociferated Howard. "I only

held one between my fingers, and it just kind of shot out." "You'll come
upstairs with me in just five minutes," announced Travis, "and get
ready for Sunday-school." Howard knew that his older sister's decisions
were as the laws of the Persians, and found means to finish his
breakfast within the specified time, though not without protest. Once
upstairs, however, the usual Sunday morning drama of despatching him
to Sunday-school in presentable condition was enacted. At every
moment his voice could be heard uplifted in shrill expostulation and
debate. No, his hands were clean enough, and he didn't see why he had
to wear that little old pink tie; and, oh! his new shoes were too tight and
hurt his sore toe; and he wouldn't, he wouldn't--no, not if he were killed
for it, change his shirt. Not for a moment did Travis lose her temper
with him. But "very well," she declared at length, "the next time she
saw that little Miner girl she would tell her that he had said she was his
beau- heart. NOW would he hold still while she brushed his hair?" At a
few minutes before eleven Travis and her father went to church. They
were Episcopalians, and for time out of mind had rented a half-pew in
the church of their denomination on California Street, not far from
Chinatown. By noon the family reassembled. at dinner-table, where Mr.
Bessemer ate his chicken- heart--after Travis had thrice reminded him
of it--and expressed himself as to the sermon and the minister's
theology: sometimes to his daughter and sometimes to himself. After
dinner Howard and Snooky foregathered in the nursery with their
beloved lead soldiers; Travis went to her room to write letters; and Mr.
Bessemer sat in the bay window of the dining-room reading the paper
from end to end. At five Travis bestirred herself. It was Victorine's
afternoon out. Travis set the table, spreading a cover of blue denim
edged with white braid, which showed off the silver and the set of
delft--her great and never-ending joy--to great effect. Then she tied her
apron about her, and went into the kitchen to make the mayonnaise
dressing for the potato salad, to slice the ham, and to help the cook (a
most inefficient Irish person, taken on only for that month during the
absence of the family's beloved and venerated Sing Wo) in the matter
of preparing the Sunday evening tea. Tea was had at half-past five.
Never in the history of the family had its menu varied: cold ham, potato
salad, pork and beans, canned fruit, chocolate, and the inevitable
pitcher of ice-water. In the absence of Victorine, Maggie waited on the

table, very uncomfortable in her one good dress and stiff white apron.
She stood off from the table, making awkward dabs at it from time to
time. In her excess of deference she developed a clumsiness that was
beyond all expression. She passed the plates upon the wrong side, and
remembered herself with a broken apology at inopportune moments.
She dropped a spoon, she spilled the ice-water. She handled the delft
cups and platters with an exaggerated solicitude, as though they were
glass bombs. She brushed the crumbs into their laps instead of into the
crumb-tray, and at last, when she had sat even Travis' placid nerves in a
jangle, was dismissed to the kitchen, and retired with a gasp of
unspeakable relief. Suddenly there came a prolonged trilling of the
electric bell, and Howard flashed a grin at Travis. Snooky jumped up
and pushed back, crying out: "I'll go! I'll go!" Mr. Bessemer glanced
nervously at Travis. "That's Mr. Rivers, isn't it, daughter?" Travis
smiled. "Well, I think I'll--I think I'd better--" he began. "No," said
Travis, "I don't want you to, Papum; you sit right where you are. How
absurd!" The old man dropped obediently back into his seat. "That's all
right, Maggie," said Travis as the cook reappeared from the pantry.
"Snooky went." "Huh!" exclaimed Howard, his grin widening. "Huh!"
And remember one thing, Howard," remarked Travis calmly, "don't
you ever again ask Mr.