“I couldn’t hear so much, bein’ in an’ out o’ the room; an’ the whole thing was on my shoulders anyways, because honest to God Mrs. G. was in some kind of a swound. I declare she didn’t seem to know what-all was coming off. What with that Mr. Martin talking to me I forgot to put any bread at the places, and will you believe it she never took notice on it until Mrs. Brook piped up for some. When I pass Mrs. G. the peas she takes a ladlefull and holds it over her plate so long I didn’t know what to do. Oh, of course, they all talk along smart and chirpy, the way folks does at a dinner party, pretend to kid each other an’ all, but I can see it don’t mean nothing. Mrs. Brook has some line she thinks a lot of, she springs it on Miss Clyde, I reckon you’re wedded to your art she says, throwing it at her pretty vicious. It was bad for Mrs. Brook, I’ll admit, setting between Mr. Martin and Mr. G. Because Mr. G. don’t make up to her none, he’s talking to the Clyde girl all the time; and Mr. Martin don’t buzz her none neither. She sings out how much she does love children and Mr. Martin says But do they love you? A good piece of the time she has to talk to her husband, across the table, and you know that makes any woman sore at a party. Once and a while Mrs. G. comes to life and says something about what a good time we’ll have to the Picnic; this Martin says Yes, he hankers to see Mr. Granville climb a tree. Mr. G. wants to know what he’ll be climbing trees for. ‘Why,’ says Mr. Martin, ‘I heard her say you’d be up a tree if that check didn’t come in to-day.’ Then Mr. Martin says he likes the way Mr. G. and Miss Clyde look at each other, as though they had secrets together. He’s got an attractive way to him, but it seems like he says whatever comes into his head. What-all way is that to behave?” Lizzie had looked forward to telling Nounou about the dinner. Now she felt with a keen disappointment that it was impossible to describe it adequately. Besides, what she had intended to say would perhaps sound too silly. Mr. Martin looks like some old lover of Mrs. G’s, she thought, that’s turned up unexpected. He’s kinda forgotten about her, put her outa his life. But she’s mad about him, all her heart’s old passion is revived. Better not say too much about these things to Nounou anyhow; she might let Brady’s man go too far. “Come on, kid,” she said, getting up from the table. “Give me a hand with this stuff. I gotta get this kitchen clean, the madam will be coming in here afterwhile to cut sandwiches. We get this finished, we can hit the hay.” Nounou smiled a little as she took the dish-towel. “I’ll help you clean up,” she said. “Then I’m going to slip out a while longer.” XIII