When Mr. Westabrook came, the place looked, as he said, as though they had cleaned the outside with manicure tools and the inside with the aid of a microscope. The supper which, in deference to Mr. Westabrook, included a single hot dish, consisted of one of Rosie’s delicious chowders; one of Maida’s delicious blueberry cakes; one of Laura’s delicious salads; and a freezer full of the boys’ delicious ice-cream. Mr. Westabrook said that he had eaten meals all over the United States and in nearly every country in Europe and he could not recall any one that he had enjoyed more than this. That night the Big Six went to bed with clear consciences. CHAPTER XIX MAIDA’S MOOD “What are you so quiet about, Maida?” Dicky asked at breakfast a few mornings later. “I don’t think you’ve said a word since you’ve got up.” “Haven’t I?” Maida replied. But she added nothing. At first because of the noise which prevailed at breakfasts in the Little House, nobody noticed Maida’s continued silence. Then finally Rosie Brine made comment on it. “Sleepy-head! Sleepy-head!” she teased. “Wake up and talk. You’re not in bed asleep. You’re sitting at the table.” Maida opened her lips to speak but closed them quickly on something which it was apparent, she even repented thinking. She shut her lips firmly and maintained her silence. “S’eepy-head! S’eepy-head!” the little mimic, Delia, prattled. “Wate up and tot. Not in bed as’eep. Sitting at table.” Everybody laughed. Everybody always laughed at Delia’s strenuous efforts to produce as copious a stream of conversation as the grown-ups. But Maida only bit her lips. The talk drifted among the older children to plans for the day. “Perhaps you will give us your views, Miss Westabrook,” Laura said after some discussion, with a touch of purely friendly sarcasm. “That is if you will condescend to talk with us.” “Oh can’t I be quiet once in a while,” Maida exclaimed pettishly, “without everybody speaking of it!” She rose from the table. “I’m tired of talking!” She walked quickly out of the dining room and ran upstairs to her own chamber. The children stared for a moment petrified. “Why I never saw Maida cross before,” Rosie said in almost an awed tone. “I wonder what can be the matter. I hope I didn’t say anything--” “No, of course you didn’t,” Arthur answered. “Maida got out of the wrong side of her bed this morning--that’s all.” “Well,” Laura concluded generously, “if anybody’s got a right to be cross once in a while, it’s Maida. She’s always so sweet.” After breakfast, the children separated, as was the custom of the Little House, to the early morning tasks. But Rosie and Laura lingered about, talking in low tones, before one went to the library and the other into the living room to do her daily stint of dusting. After this work was finished, they proceeded to the garden and plucked flowers together.