and 'house-warming'--dreadful kind of people--but mamma's got it all
on her hands. She's never sat down a MINUTE; and if she did, papa
would have her up again before--"

"Of course," said Bibbs. "Do you like the new place, Edith?"

"I don't like some of the things father WOULD have in it, but it's
the finest house in town, and that ought to be good enough for me!
Papa bought one thing I like--a view of the Bay of Naples in oil
that's perfectly beautiful; it's the first thing you see as you come
in the front hall, and it's eleven feet long. But he would have that
old fruit picture we had in the Murphy Street house hung up in the
new dining-room. You remember it--a table and a watermelon sliced
open, and a lot of rouged-looking apples and some shiny lemons, with
two dead prairie-chickens on a chair? He bought it at a furniture-
store years and years ago, and he claims it's a finer picture than any
they saw in the museums, that time he took mamma to Europe. But it's
horribly out of date to have those things in dining-rooms, and I
caught Bobby Lamhorn giggling at it; and Sibyl made fun of it, too,
with Bobby, and then told papa she agreed with him about its being
such a fine thing, and said he did just right to insist on having it
where he wanted it. She makes me tired! Sibyl!"

Edith's first constraint with her brother, amounting almost to
awkwardness, vanished with this theme, though she still kept her
full gaze always to the front, even in the extreme ardor of her
denunciation of her sister-in-law.

"SIBYL!" she repeated, with such heat and vigor that the name seemed
to strike fire on her lips. "I'd like to know why Roscoe couldn't