"You HAVE been at him about it!"

"Not one single word!"

"No!" Alice cried. "Not a WORD, but that's what you've meant all
along! You haven't spoken the words to him, but all this urging
him to change, to 'find something better to go into'--it's all
been about nothing on earth but your foolish old glue factory
that you know upsets him, and you gave your solemn word never to
speak to him about again! You didn't say it, but you meant
it--and he KNOWS that's what you meant! Oh, mama!"

Mrs. Adams, with her hands still automatically at work in the
flooded dishpan, turned to face her daughter. "Alice," she said,
tremulously, "what do I ask for myself?"

"What?"

"I say, What do I ask for myself? Do you suppose _I_ want
anything? Don't you know I'd be perfectly content on your
father's present income if I were the only person to be
considered? What do I care about any pleasure for myself? I'd
be willing never to have a maid again; _I_ don't mind doing the
work. If we didn't have any children I'd be glad to do your
father's cooking and the housework and the washing and ironing,
too, for the rest of my life. I wouldn't care. I'm a poor cook
and a poor housekeeper; I don't do anything well; but it would be
good enough for just him and me. I wouldn't ever utter one word
of com----"