Seventeen [26]
She gave the bit to Clematis and slowly ate what remained, continuing to watch Genesis and apparently unconscious of the scorching gaze from the window.
``I never saw anything as disgusting as long as I've lived!'' William announced. ``I wouldn't 'a' believed it if anybody'd told me a sister of mine would eat after--''
``I didn't,'' said Jane. ``I like Clematis, anyway.''
``Ye gods!'' her brother cried. ``Do you think that makes it any better? And, BY the WAY,'' he continued, in a tone of even greater severity, ``I'd a like to know where you got those cakes. Where'd you get 'em, I'd just like to inquire?''
``In the pantry.'' Jane turned and moved toward the house. ``I'm goin' in for some more, now.''
William uttered a cry; these little cakes were sacred. His mother, growing curious to meet a visiting lady of whom (so to speak) she had heard much and thought more, had asked May Parcher to bring her guest for iced tea, that afternoon. A few others of congenial age had been invited: there was to be a small matinee, in fact, for the honor and pleasure of the son of the house, and the cakes of Jane's onslaught were part of Mrs. Baxter's preparations. There was no telling where Jane would stop; it was conceivable that Miss Pratt herself might go waferless.
William returned the cardboard box to its drawer with reverent haste; then, increasing the haste, but dropping the reverence, he hied himself to the pantry with such advantage of longer legs that within the minute he and the wafers appeared in conjunction before his mother, who was arranging fruit and flowers upon a table in the ``living-room.''
William entered in the stained-glass attitude of one bearing gifts. Overhead, both hands supported a tin pan, well laden with small cakes and wafers, for which Jane was silently but repeatedly and systematically jumping. Even under the stress of these efforts her expression was cool and collected; she maintained the self-possession that was characteristic of her.
Not so with William; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes indignant. ``You see what this child is doing?'' he demanded. ``Are you going to let her ruin everything?''
``Ruin?'' Mrs. Baxter repeated, absently, refreshing with fair water a bowl of flowers upon the table. ``Ruin?''
``Yes, ruin!'' William was hotly emphatic, ``If you don't do something with her it 'll all be ruined before Miss Pr--before they even get here!''
Mrs. Baxter laughed. ``Set the pan down, Willie.''
``Set it DOWN?'' he echoed, incredulously ``With that child in the room and grabbing like--''
``There!'' Mrs. Baxter took the pan from him, placed it upon a chair, and with the utmost coolness selected five wafers and gave them to Jane. ``I'd already promised her she could have five more. You know the doctor said Jane's digestion was the finest he'd ever misunderstood. They won't hurt her at all, Willie.''
This deliberate misinterpretation of his motives made it difficult for William to speak. ``Do YOU think,'' he began, hoarsely, ``do you THINK--''
``They're so small, too,'' Mrs. Baxter went on. ``SHE probably wouldn't be sick if she ate them all.''
``My heavens!'' he burst forth. ``Do you think I was worrying about--'' He broke off, unable to express himself save by a few gestures of despair. Again finding his voice, and a great deal of it, he demanded: ``Do you realize that Miss PRATT will be here within less than half an hour? What do you suppose she'd think of the people of this town if she was invited out, expecting decent treatment, and found two-thirds of the cakes eaten up before she got there, and what was left of 'em all mauled and pawed over and crummy and chewed-up lookin' from some wretched CHILD?'' Here William became oratorical, but not with marked effect, since Jane regarded him with unmoved eyes, while Mrs. Baxter continued to be mildly preoccupied in arranging the table. In fact, throughout this episode in controversy the ladies' party had not only the numerical but the emotional advantage. Obviously, the approach
``I never saw anything as disgusting as long as I've lived!'' William announced. ``I wouldn't 'a' believed it if anybody'd told me a sister of mine would eat after--''
``I didn't,'' said Jane. ``I like Clematis, anyway.''
``Ye gods!'' her brother cried. ``Do you think that makes it any better? And, BY the WAY,'' he continued, in a tone of even greater severity, ``I'd a like to know where you got those cakes. Where'd you get 'em, I'd just like to inquire?''
``In the pantry.'' Jane turned and moved toward the house. ``I'm goin' in for some more, now.''
William uttered a cry; these little cakes were sacred. His mother, growing curious to meet a visiting lady of whom (so to speak) she had heard much and thought more, had asked May Parcher to bring her guest for iced tea, that afternoon. A few others of congenial age had been invited: there was to be a small matinee, in fact, for the honor and pleasure of the son of the house, and the cakes of Jane's onslaught were part of Mrs. Baxter's preparations. There was no telling where Jane would stop; it was conceivable that Miss Pratt herself might go waferless.
William returned the cardboard box to its drawer with reverent haste; then, increasing the haste, but dropping the reverence, he hied himself to the pantry with such advantage of longer legs that within the minute he and the wafers appeared in conjunction before his mother, who was arranging fruit and flowers upon a table in the ``living-room.''
William entered in the stained-glass attitude of one bearing gifts. Overhead, both hands supported a tin pan, well laden with small cakes and wafers, for which Jane was silently but repeatedly and systematically jumping. Even under the stress of these efforts her expression was cool and collected; she maintained the self-possession that was characteristic of her.
Not so with William; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes indignant. ``You see what this child is doing?'' he demanded. ``Are you going to let her ruin everything?''
``Ruin?'' Mrs. Baxter repeated, absently, refreshing with fair water a bowl of flowers upon the table. ``Ruin?''
``Yes, ruin!'' William was hotly emphatic, ``If you don't do something with her it 'll all be ruined before Miss Pr--before they even get here!''
Mrs. Baxter laughed. ``Set the pan down, Willie.''
``Set it DOWN?'' he echoed, incredulously ``With that child in the room and grabbing like--''
``There!'' Mrs. Baxter took the pan from him, placed it upon a chair, and with the utmost coolness selected five wafers and gave them to Jane. ``I'd already promised her she could have five more. You know the doctor said Jane's digestion was the finest he'd ever misunderstood. They won't hurt her at all, Willie.''
This deliberate misinterpretation of his motives made it difficult for William to speak. ``Do YOU think,'' he began, hoarsely, ``do you THINK--''
``They're so small, too,'' Mrs. Baxter went on. ``SHE probably wouldn't be sick if she ate them all.''
``My heavens!'' he burst forth. ``Do you think I was worrying about--'' He broke off, unable to express himself save by a few gestures of despair. Again finding his voice, and a great deal of it, he demanded: ``Do you realize that Miss PRATT will be here within less than half an hour? What do you suppose she'd think of the people of this town if she was invited out, expecting decent treatment, and found two-thirds of the cakes eaten up before she got there, and what was left of 'em all mauled and pawed over and crummy and chewed-up lookin' from some wretched CHILD?'' Here William became oratorical, but not with marked effect, since Jane regarded him with unmoved eyes, while Mrs. Baxter continued to be mildly preoccupied in arranging the table. In fact, throughout this episode in controversy the ladies' party had not only the numerical but the emotional advantage. Obviously, the approach