Lulu cleared the table. Mrs. Deacon essayed to wind the clock. Well now.
Did Herbert say it was twenty-three to-night when it struck the half
hour and twenty-one last night, or twenty-one to-night and last night
twenty-three? She talked of it as they cleared the table, but Lulu did
not talk.

"Can't you remember?" Mrs. Deacon said at last. "I should think you
might be useful."

Lulu was lifting the yellow tulip to set it on the sill. She changed her
mind. She took the plant to the wood-shed and tumbled it with force upon
the chip-pile.

The dining-room table was laid for breakfast. The two women brought
their work and sat there. The child Monona hung miserably about,
watching the clock. Right or wrong, she was put to bed by it. She had
eight minutes more--seven--six--five--

Lulu laid down her sewing and left the room. She went to the wood-shed,
groped about in the dark, found the stalk of the one tulip flower in its
heap on the chip-pile. The tulip she fastened in her gown on her flat
chest.

Outside were to be seen the early stars. It is said that if our sun were
as near to Arcturus as we are near to our sun, the great Arcturus would
burn our sun to nothingness.

* * * * *

In the Deacons' parlour sat Bobby Larkin, eighteen. He was in pain all