Blix

ught in the halved watermelon and set it in front of Mr. Bessemer's plate. Then she went down to the front door for

it, in a flat in the third story of the building. The contractor had been clever enough to reverse the position of kitchen and dining-room, so that the latter room was at the rear of the house. From its window one could command a swee

at the great expanse of land and sea, the

any time after seven or before half-past nine. As Victorine was pouring the ice-water, Mr. Bessemer himsel

ad his paper through a reading-glass. The expression of his face, wrinkled and be

lves. At table he talked but little. Though devotedly fond of his eldest daughter, she was a puzzle and a stranger to him. His interests and hers were absolutely dissim

up a running, half-whispered comment upon his own doings and actions; as, for instance, upon this occasion: "Nine o'clock-the clock's a little fast. I think I'll wind my watch

pouring his coffee, the two children came in, scrambling to th

ual revolt against his older sister, who, as much as possible, took the place of the mother, long since dead. Under her supervision, Howard blacked his own shoes every mor

en; was long-legged, and endowed with all the awkwardness of a colt. Her shoes were still innocent of heels; but on those occasions when she was allowed to wear her tiny first pair of corsets she was exalted to an almost celest

, but one chair-at the end of the breakfast-

rine of Howard and Snooky, as she pushed the cream pitcher out of Howard's reach. It was significa

the children, speaking together; and

t plunge in the surf and a "constitutional" along the beach. One felt that here was stamina, good physical force, and fine animal vigor. Her arms were large, her wrists were large, and her fingers did not taper. Her hair was of a brown so light as to be almost yellow. In fact, it would be safer to call it yellow from the start-not golden nor flaxen, but plain, honest yellow. The skin of her face was clean and white, except where it flushed to a most

not at all the result of thoughts and reflections germinating from within, but rather of impressions and sensations that came to her from without. There was nothing extraordinary about Travis. She

ashion over the colored silk skirt beneath, and a white shirt-waist, striped black, and starched to a rattling stiffness. Her neck was swathed tight and high with a broad ribbon

every movement there emanated from her a barely perceptible delicious feminine odor-an odor that was in part perfume, but mostly a subtle

ously bad, as usual of a Sunday morning-and her father's plate. Mr. Bessemer was as like as not to leave th

ere's your coffee there at your elbow; be careful, you'll tip it over. Victo

ow I'll take a roll," he continued, in a monotonous murmur. "Where are the rolls? Here they are. Hot rolls are bad for my digestion-I ought to eat bread. I think I eat too much. Where'

n giving directions to Victorine as to the hour for serving dinner. It was wh

to

s, "to fricassee her chicken, an

" whined S

rt out for Papum.

o-o

d Mr. Bessemer, "vigorous and to

ke Howa

imed Travis; "w

n-seeds at me," whined Snooky

rd. "I only held one between my fin

st five minutes," announced Travis,

s enacted. At every moment his voice could be heard uplifted in shrill expostulation and debate. No, his hands were clean enough, and he didn't see why he had to wear that little old pink tie; and, oh! his new shoes were too tight and hurt his sore toe; and he wouldn't, he wouldn't-no, not if

their denomination on California Street, not far from Chinatown. By noon the family reassembled at dinner-table, where Mr. Bessemer ate his chicken-heart-afte

ed lead soldiers; Travis went to her room to write letters; and Mr. Besseme

ft-her great and never-ending joy-to great effect. Then she 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 h

y had its menu varied: cold ham, potato salad, pork and beans, c

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 solici

c bell, and Howard flashed a grin at Travis. Snooky jum

Mr. Rivers, isn't it, daughter?" Travis smiled.

ant you to, Papum; you sit ri

ped obediently b

d Travis as the cook reappeared

Howard, his gri

Travis calmly, "don't you ever again ask Mr

id that boy do that?" he i

at Howard, who shifted uneasily in his seat. But meanwhile Snooky had clambered down to the