tied her apron about her, and went into the kitchen to make the
mayonnaise dressing for the potato salad, to slice the ham, and to
help the cook (a most inefficient Irish person, taken on only for
that month during the absence of the family's beloved and
venerated Sing Wo) in the matter of preparing the Sunday evening
tea.

Tea was had at half-past five. Never in the history of the family
had its menu varied: cold ham, potato salad, pork and beans,
canned fruit, chocolate, and the inevitable pitcher of ice-water.

In the absence of Victorine, Maggie waited on the table, very
uncomfortable in her one good dress and stiff white apron. She
stood off from the table, making awkward dabs at it from time to
time. In her excess of deference she developed a clumsiness that
was beyond all expression. She passed the plates upon the wrong
side, and remembered herself with a broken apology at inopportune
moments. She dropped a spoon, she spilled the ice-water. She
handled the delft cups and platters with an exaggerated
solicitude, as though they were glass bombs. She brushed the
crumbs into their laps instead of into the crumb-tray, and at
last, when she had sat even Travis' placid nerves in a jangle, was
dismissed to the kitchen, and retired with a gasp of unspeakable
relief.

Suddenly there came a prolonged trilling of the electric bell, and
Howard flashed a grin at Travis. Snooky jumped up and pushed
back, crying out: "I'll go! I'll go!"

Mr. Bessemer glanced nervously at Travis. "That's Mr. Rivers,