Lucy gave him a look that startled him with its hostility, and left the room without a word. When she did not appear for dinner Mrs. Merwent went upstairs to call her, but returned alone.
“She says she doesn’t want any dinner,” Nannie informed John. “Shall we begin without her?”
“Why, of course. If she wants to pout, let her.”
“You poor boy!” continued Nannie, straightening his cravat. “It isn’t pleasant for you to come home and find things like this, when you work so hard all day. But you must be patient with Lucy, John. I used to have to be when she was a girl.”
Without waiting for him to reply Nannie went into the kitchen.
“You can put the dinner on, Grace,” she instructed.
“Do I have to go, Mrs. Merwent?” asked Grace in a low tone.
“No, Grace, but you must be careful not to offend Mrs. Winter again.”
“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Merwent.”
“Hurry up, Grace, and serve the soup. Mr. Winter is waiting for his dinner.”
“All right, Mrs. Merwent. Go in and sit down. It won’t be a minute.”
Lucy had begun to grow pale and silent, speaking only when addressed, or when necessary orders were to be given the servant. Late one afternoon she entered the kitchen to inspect preparations for dinner.
“You can put this cauliflower in the ice chest when it is done,” she directed, “and we’ll have it for salad with French dressing.”
“Mrs. Merwent told me to serve it hot with cream dressing,” answered Grace.
“I don’t want to use up the milk for cream dressing,” Lucy informed her sharply. “There won’t be enough for Dimmie.”
“I can go out and get some more,” returned Grace stubbornly.
“It isn’t necessary. We’re getting a quart of milk a day extra already. You fix the cauliflower as I said.”
“Well, what about what Mrs. Merwent says?” inquired Grace impudently.
“I am mistress here. You do as I say, or leave the house,” ordered Lucy angrily.
“I dunno as I have to do either,” sneered Grace.
Lucy went into the dining room and returned with some money.
“Here are your wages. Get out of the house,” she commanded, a curious expression in her eyes that impressed Grace against her will.
“Mrs. Winter—” the girl began to parley.
“Get your things together and go,” repeated Lucy, moving slowly toward her.
Grace backed out of the kitchen, and, turning, ascended the stairs, sobbing. She was followed by Lucy. In a few minutes the two came through the upstairs hall. Grace had her hat and coat on and carried her suit case in her hand. Nannie, hearing the girl’s sobs, opened her door and looked out.
“Why, Grace, what in the world is the matter?” she queried.
“Oh, Mrs. Merwent, Mrs. Winter is sending me away,” cried the girl.
“Now, Lucy,” Nannie began, taking hold of her daughter’s arm.
Lucy shook off Nannie’s hand and faced her threateningly.
“Will you keep out of this, Mother?” she asked with a suppressed vehemence that staggered Nannie.
“Come now. Go at once,” Lucy told Grace, who, cowed as she was, allowed herself, without further protest, to be bundled down the stairs and through the front door.
Lucy then went to the kitchen to complete the preparations for dinner. Mrs. Merwent came after her, sad and injured.
“Mother!” Nannie repeated, echoing Lucy’s intonation. “You’ll be calling me Mrs. Merwent next! Lucy, you are certainly the hardest hearted—”
“Please! Don’t talk to me,” interrupted Lucy.
“But, Lucy—”
“Don’t talk to me!” ordered Lucy, her voice shrill.
Nannie retreated to her bedroom.
Soon after John entered the house whistling. Meeting no one in the hall and living room, he peered into the kitchen.
“Where’s Nannie?” he inquired of Lucy.
“I don’t know,” she replied shortly.
“What are you doing in the kitchen? Where’s your girl?” he persisted.
“I don’t know,” reiterated Lucy in the same tone.
Nannie, who had heard John’s voice, hurried down the stairs and came into the kitchen.
“Let me help you put the dinner on, Lucy,” she offered, after smiling at John.
“Please leave me alone,” answered Lucy in the same hostile enigmatic manner.
“Whew!” ejaculated John. “Let me get out of this! Come on, Nannie!” And the two went into the living room.
When Lucy had placed the dinner on the table, she returned to her bedroom. The meal had not been announced and it was not until Dimmie, entering the living room, wanted to know why Papa and Nannie did not come to dinner, that Nannie followed the child back to the dining room and discovered the cooling dishes.
“Why, John, dinner is on the table and getting cold!” she called. “There is cream pea soup, too. It’s so good when it’s hot and now it’s all spoiled,” she added disappointedly.
“Well, let’s eat,” said John, appearing in the doorway.
“I wonder whether Lucy is coming or whether she is not,” he remarked when they were seated.
“I’ll go and see,” offered Mrs. Merwent.
“No. If she wants to sulk, let her sulk,” John declared. “I’m getting tired of this kind of thing.”
Nannie rose and went to the kitchen.
“Where’s Grace?” John asked when Mrs. Merwent reseated herself.
“She’s gone.” Nannie’s air was mysterious.
“Gone where?”
“Well, John, I don’t want to say anything—”
“Did Lucy send her away?”
“Yes, John.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know, John. I was in my room and heard the girl crying, and when I came out Lucy was in such a temper I was afraid to inquire or say anything.”
John struck the table with his fist.
“I’m not going to stand Lucy’s tantrums much longer!” he cried. His lips were drawn back and showed the edges of his teeth.
Dimmie, who had with difficulty climbed from his mother’s chair into his own highchair, sat there unnoticed, staring at his father, his eyes very wide open and his lips parted.
“Now, John,” Nannie began soothingly. “I know you have been like a saint, but you mustn’t get discouraged. I’m going to talk to Lucy and maybe things will be better.”
“You’re the saint, Nannie.”
“Well, now promise me that for my sake you will go on being just as forbearing as you have been so far? I couldn’t bear to have
