"Well, but, Herbert--" It was his wife again.

"No more," he cried briefly, with a slight bend of his head. "Lulu
meant no harm," he added, and smiled at Lulu.

There was a moment's silence into which Monona injected a loud "Num,
num, num-my-num," as if she were the burden of an Elizabethan lyric. She
seemed to close the incident. But the burden was cut off untimely. There
was, her father reminded her portentously, company in the parlour.

"When the bell rang, I was so afraid something had happened to Di," said
Ina sighing.

"Let's see," said Di's father. "Where is little daughter to-night?"

He must have known that she was at Jenny Plow's at a tea party, for at
noon they had talked of nothing else; but this was his way. And Ina
played his game, always. She informed him, dutifully.

"Oh, _ho_," said he, absently. How could he be expected to keep his mind
on these domestic trifles.

"We told you that this noon," said Lulu.

He frowned, disregarded her. Lulu had no delicacy.

"How much is salmon the can now?" he inquired abruptly--this was one of
his forms of speech, the can, the pound, the cord.