was brought on, appetites had fled.
June used to sit and look at her father eating in this curious, abject way and feel sorry for him. Did he feel as shy and embarrassed and miserable as they did? She was sure of it, and her self-consciousness and resultant anger relaxed and she gulped less. At moments like these she felt a curious sympathy for him. She suddenly realized that she and her father looked very much alike—their eyes and the shape of their mouths. The same blood ran in their veins and probably the same feelings in their hearts.
All father wanted was mother, and here was a group of children sitting around the table, restrained and uncomfortable. Where did they all come from? They were his. Well, he had performed a family duty by dining with them on Sunday. . . His meals for a week hence would be with mother. . . Damn it! He always wanted to be alone with her, and here were five children come between them. . .
These, it seemed to June, must have been his thoughts.
Adele and June found it an unpleasant duty after dinner to wash the dishes. They could not sing while they worked as they usually did, because Mr. Henreddy would send Mother Grace out to silence them.
While Adele cleared the table, June piled the
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