Part 35 (1/2)
”Yes, but, Dwight, where has she gone? Where could she go? Where--”
”You are a question-box,” said Dwight playfully. ”A question-box.”
Ina had burned her plump wrist on the oven. She lifted her arm and nursed it.
”I'm certainly going to miss her if she stays away very long,” she remarked.
”You should be sufficient unto your little self,” said Dwight.
”That's all right,” said Ina, ”except when you're getting dinner.”
”I want some crust coffee,” announced Monona firmly.
”You'll have nothing of the sort,” said Ina. ”Drink your milk.”
”As I remarked,” Dwight went on, ”I'm in a tiny wee bit of a hurry.”
”Well, why don't you say what for?” his Ina asked.
She knew that he wanted to be asked, and she was sufficiently willing to play his games, and besides she wanted to know. But she _was_ hot.
”I am going,” said Dwight, ”to take Grandma Gates out in a wheel-chair, for an hour.”
”Where did you get a wheel-chair, for mercy sakes?”
”Borrowed it from the railroad company,” said Dwight, with the triumph peculiar to the resourceful man. ”Why I never did it before, I can't imagine. There that chair's been in the depot ever since I can remember--saw it every time I took the train--and yet I never once thought of grandma.”
”My, Dwight,” said Ina, ”how good you are!”
”Nonsense!” said he.
”Well, you are. Why don't I send her over a baked apple? Monona, you take Grandma Gates a baked apple--no. You shan't go till you drink your milk.”
”I don't want it.”
”Drink it or mamma won't let you go.”
Monona drank it, made a piteous face, took the baked apple, ran.
”The apple isn't very good,” said Ina, ”but it shows my good will.”
”Also,” said Dwight, ”it teaches Monona a life of thoughtfulness for others.”
”That's what I always think,” his Ina said.
”Can't you get mother to come out?” Dwight inquired.
”I had so much to do getting dinner onto the table, I didn't try,” Ina confessed.
”You didn't have to try,” Mrs. Bett's voice sounded. ”I was coming when I got rested up.”