Silence. "Re-nie!" "Yes, mamma." "Why you got your door locked?" Silence. "Huh?" "I--I--" "Come right away out in the dining-room. If you 'ain't got no more regards for your parents than not to stay home for supper, anyways you got to fix for the table the flowers what I brought home from market." "Yes, mamma." She darted to her feet, drying the tears on her cheeks with the palm of her hand. "Coming, mamma." And she slipped through the door of her room, scarcely opening it. In the dining-room, beside the white-spread table, Mrs. Shongut unwound a paper toot of pink carnations; but the flavor of her spirit was bitter and her thin, pressed-looking lips hung at the corners. "Maybe you can stop pouting long enough to help with things a little, even if you won't be here. I tell you it's a pleasure when papa comes home for supper with company, to have children like mine." "Listen, mamma. I--" "Sounds like somebody's going out of the house, Renie. Who--" "No, no. No one has been here, mamma. It's just the breeze." "I tell you it's a pleasure to have a daughter like mine! What excuses to make to Max Hochenheimer, a young man what comes all the way from Cincinnati to see her--" "Listen, mamma; I--I've only been fooling--honest, I have." "What?" "I--aw, mamma." Miss Shongut's face was suddenly buried in the neat lace yoke of her mother's dimity blouse, and her arms crept up about her neck. "I've been only fooling about to-night, mamma. Don't you think I know it is just like he was sent from heaven? I've only been fooling, mamma, so that--so that you shouldn't know how happy I am." The soul peeped out suddenly in Mrs. Shongut's face, hallowing it. "Renie! My little Renie!" * * * * * On Wasserman Avenue the hand that rocks the cradle oftener than not carves the roast. Behind her platter, sovereign of all she surveyed, and skilfully, so that beneath her steel the red, oozing slices curled and fell into their pool of gravy, reigned Mrs. Shongut. And her suzerainty rested on her as lightly as a tiara of seven stars. "Mr. Hochenheimer, you ain't eating a thing!" Mrs. Shongut craned her neck round the centerpiece of pink carnations. "Not a thing on your plate! Renie, pass Mr. Hochenheimer some more salad." "No, no, Mrs. Shongut; just don't you worry about me." "I hope you ain't bashful, Mr. Hochenheimer. We feel toward you just like home folks." "Indeed, what I don't see I ask for, Mrs. Shongut." "Renie, pass Mr. Hochenheimer some more of that red cabbage." "No, no--please, Mrs. Shongut; I got plenty." "Ach, Mr. Hochenheimer, you eat so little you must be in love." "Mamma!" "Ach, Mr. Hochenheimer knows that I only fool. Renie, pass the dumplings." "No, no--please! I--" "Mamma, don't force. You're not bashful, are you, Mr. Hochenheimer?"