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Show MISS LULU BETT . , X- REAL HUMAN BEINGS To write that '.una Gale'e "Miss Lulu Bell" Is BOixi reading la like "currying coals to Newcastle" only more so. As almost everybody every-body knows, the story Is so unmistakably unmis-takably real American stuff that there was an Immediate domand for its dramatization. With little change it was put on the stage. The play was as successful as the book. It took the Pulitzer prize for 1921. The judges declared It the "best American play of the year, tending to Increase the educational value of the stage and raise the standards of manners and morals." "Miss Lulu Bett" depicts smalltown small-town lite in the Middle West with stark realism. Her characters are everyday human people. The life Is everyday life. The author hat) achieved a triumph In that she has given us stark realism which is free from the gnwsness with which it is popularly associated. And the story Is good reading beside don't forget that! Miss Gale lives In Portage, Wis., where she has written a dozen novels nov-els and scores of short stories. She's a college woman and got Into literature via the best route work on a newspaper. I April. The Deacons were at supper. In the middle of the table was a small, appealing tulip plant, looking as anything any-thing would look whose sun was a gas Jet. This . s Jet was high above the table and flared with a sound. "Better turn down the gas Jest a little," Mr. Deacon said, and stretched up to do so. He made this Joke almost every night. He seldom spoke as a man speaks who has something to say, but as a man who makes something to say. i "Well, what have we on the festive board tonight?" he questioned, eyeing It "Festive" was his favorite adjective. adjec-tive. "Beautiful," too. In October he might be heard asking: "Where's my beautiful fall coat?" "We have creamed salmon," replied Mrs. Deacon gently. "On toast," she added, with a scrupulous regard for the whole truth. Why she should say this so gently no one can tell. She says everything gently. Her "Could you leave me another bottle of milk this morning?" would wring a milkman's milk-man's heart, "Well, now, let us see," said Mr. Deacon, and attacked the principal dish benignly. "Let us see," he added, as he served. ; "I don't want any," said Monona. ' The child Monona was seated upon a book and a cushion, so that her little triangle of nose rose adultly above her plate. Her remark produced pro-duced precisely the effect for which 'she had passionately hoped. ! "What's this?" cried Mr. Deacon "No salmon?" "No," said Monona, inflected up, chin pertly pointed. She felt hei power,, discarded her "sir." , "Oh now, Pet I" from Mrs. Deacon, on three notes. "Yon liked it before." "I don't want any," said Monona, Id precisely her original tone. "Just a little? A very little?" Mr. Deacon persuaded, spoon dripping. The child Monona made her lips thin and straight and shook her head until her straight hair flapped hi her eyes on either side. Mr. Deacon's eyes anxiously anx-iously consulted his wife's eyes. What Is this? Their progeny will not eat? What can be supplied? "Some bread and milk !" cried Mrs. Deacon brightly, exploding on "bread." One wondered how she thought of it. "No," said Monona, Inflection up, chin the same. She was affecting indifference in-difference to this scene, in which her soul delighted. She twisted her head, bit her lips unconcernedly, and turned her eyes to the remote. There emerged from the fringe of things, where she perpetually hovered, Mrs. Dencon's older sister, Lulu Bett, who was "making her home with us." And that was precisely the case. They w?re not making her a home, goodness good-ness knows. T.uiu was the family beast of burden. "Can't I make her a little, milk toast? she asked Mrs. Deacon. Mrs. Deacon hesitated, not with compunction at accepting Lulu's otter, not diplomatically to lure Monona. But she hesitated habitually, by na- ture, ns another is by nature vivacious or brunette. "Yes!" shouted the child Monona. The tension relaxed. Mrs. Deacon assented. Lulu went to the kitchen. Mr. Deacon served on. Something of this scene was enacted every day. For Monona the drama never lost its zest. It never occurred to the others to let her sit without eating, once, as a cure-all. cure-all. The Deacons were devoted parents par-ents anil the child Monona was delicate. deli-cate. She hud a white, grave face, white hair, white eyebrows, while lashes. She was sullen, anemic. They let her wear rings. She "toed In." The poor child was the Into birt'i of a late marriage and the principal joy wlilcli she had provided for them vhus far was the pleased reflection that they hail produced her at all. "Where's your nnHher, lna?" Mr. Deacon Inquired. "Isn't she coming to her supper?" "Tantrlnt," said Mrs. Deacon softly. "Oh, ho," said he. and said no more. The temper of Mrs. Belt, who also lived with them, hart days of high vibration vi-bration when she absented herself from the table as a kind of sclf-Inihvlgenee, sclf-Inihvlgenee, and no one could persuade her to food. "Tantrims," they called these occasions. "Baked potatoes," said Mr. Deacon. "That's good that's good. The baked potato contains more nourishment than potatoes prepared In uny other By ZONA GALE Copyright by D. Appleton & Company way. The nourishment is next to the skin. Boasting rttalns It." "That's what I always think," said his wife pleasantly. For fifteen years they had agreed about this. They ate, in the Indecent silence of first savoring food. A delicate crunching crunch-ing of crusts, an odor of baked-potato shells, the slip and touch of the silver. "Num, num, nummy-num !" sang the child Monona loudly, and was hushed by both parents In simultaneous exclamation excla-mation which rivaled this lyric outburst. out-burst. They were alone at table. Di, daughter of a wife early lost to Mi-. Deacon, was not there. DI was hardly ever there. She was at that age. That age, In Wnrbleton. A clock struck the half hour. "It's curious," Mr. Deacon observed, "how that clock loses. It must be fully quarter to." He consulted his watch. "It is quarter to I" he exclaimed with satisfaction. "I'm pretty good at guessing time." "I've noticed that 1" cried his lna. "Last night, It was only twenty-three twenty-three to, when the half hour struck," lie reminded her. "Twentv-onp T thought " She was tentative, regarded him with arched eyebrows, mastication suspended. This point was never to be settled. The colloquy was interrupted by the child Monona, whining for her toast. And the doorbell rang. "Dear me!" said M. Deacon. "What can anybody be thinking of to call Just at mealtime?" He trod the hall, flung open the street door. Mrs. Deacon listened. Lulu, coming in with the toast, was warned to silence by an uplifted finger. fin-ger. She deposited the toast, tiptoed to her chair. A withered baked potato po-tato and cold creamed salmon were on her plate. The child Monona ate with shocking appreciation. Nothing could be made of the voices in the hall. But Mrs. Bett's door was heard softly to unlatch. She, too, was listening. lis-tening. A ripple of excitement was caused In the dining room when Mr. Deacon was divined to usher some one to the parlor. Mr. Deacon would speak with this visitor In a few moments and now returned to his table. It was notable how slight a thing would give him a sense of self-importance. Now he felt himself a man of affairs, could not even have a quiet supper with his family without the outside world demanding de-manding him. He waved his hand to indicate It was nothing which they should know "anything about, resumed his seat, served himself to a second spoon of salmon and remarked, "More . . . "More Roast Duck, Anybody?" In a Loud Voice. roast duck, anybody?" in a loud voice and with a slow wink at Ills wife. That lady at first looked blank, as she always did in the presence of any humor hu-mor couched with the least indirection, indirec-tion, and then drew back her chin and caught her lower lip in her gold-Iilled teeth. This was her conjugal rebuking. rebuk-ing. Swedonborg always uses "conju-gial." "conju-gial." And really this sounds more married. It should be used with reference ref-erence t the Deacons. No one was ever more married than they at least Mr. Deacon. lie "made little conjugal con-jugal jokes in the presence of Lulu who now, completely unnerved by the habit, suspected them where they did not exist, feared lurking enlendnt In the most innocent comments, and became be-came more tense every hour of her life. And now the eye of the master of the house fell for the first time upon the yellow tulip in the center of his table. "Well, well!" he said. "What's this?" Ina Deacon produced, fleetly, an unlooked-for dimple. "Have you been buying flowers?" the master inquired. "Ask Lulu." said Mis. Deacon. He turned his attention full upon l.u'u. "Suitors?" he inquired, and his lips left their places to fo-;n a sort oi ni.T ah: lit I lie wor I. !t , Lulu flushed, and her eyes and theuf very brows appealed. "it was a quarter," she said, "There'll be five flowers." "You bought It?" "Yes. There'll be Ave that's a nickel apiece." His tone was as methodical as If he had been talking about the bread. "Yet we give you a home on th supposition that you have no money to spend, even for necessities." His voice, without resonance, cleft air, thought, spirit, and even flesh. Mrs. Deacon, indeterminately feeling feel-ing her guilt in having let loose the dogs of her husband upon Lulu, Interposed In-terposed : "Well, but, Herbert Lulu Isn't strong enough to work. What's the use . . ." She dwindled. For years the fiction had been sustained that Lulu, the family beast of burden, was not strong enough to work anywhere else. "The Justice business " said Dwlght Herbert Deacon he was a Justice of the peace "and the dental profession profes-sion " he was also a dentist "do not warrant the purchase of spring flowers flow-ers in my home." "Well, but, Herbert " It was his wife again. - "No more," he cried briefly, with a slight bend of his head. "Lulu meant no harm," he added, and smiled at Lulu. There was a moment's silence Into which Monona injected a loud "Num, num, nummy-num," as If she were the burden of an Elizabethan lyric. She seemed to close the Incident. But the burden was cut off untimely. There was, her father reminded her portentously, porten-tously, company In the parlor. "When the bell rang, I was so afraid something had happened to DI," said Ina, sighing. "Let's see," said Di's father. "Where is little daughter tonight?" He must have known that she was at Jenny Plow's at a tea party, for at noon they had talked of nothing else; but this was his way. And Ina played his game, always. She informed him, dutifully. "Oh, ho," said he, absently. How could he be expected to keep his mind on these domestic trifles. "We told you that this noon," said Lulu. He frowned, disregarded her. Lulu had no delicacy. "How much Is salmon the can now?" he inquired nbruptly this was one of his forms of speech, the can, the pound, the cord. His partner supplied this information informa-tion with admirable promptness. Large size, small size, present price, former price she had them all. "Dear me," said Mr. Deacon. "That is very nearly salmoney, Isn't it?" "Herbert!" his Ina admonished, In gentle, gentle reproach. Mr. Deacon punned, organically. In talk he often fell silent and then asked some question, ques-tion, schemed to permit his voice to flourish. Mrs. Deacon's return was always automatic: "Herbert!" "Whose Bert?" he said to this. "I thought I was your Bert." She shook her little head. "You are a case," she told him. He beamed upon her. It was his Intention to be a case. Lulu ventured In upon this pleasantry, pleas-antry, and cleared her throat. She was not hoarse, but she was always clearing her throat. "The butter is about all gone," she observed. "Shall I wait for the butter-woman butter-woman or get some creamery?" Mr. Deacon now felt his little jocularity jocu-larity lost before a wall of the matter of fact. He was not pleased. He saw himself as the light of his home, bringer of brightness, Iightener of dull hours. It was a pretty role. He insisted in-sisted upon It. To maintain it Intact, It was necessary to turn upon their sister with concentrated irritation. "Kindly settle these matters without with-out bringing them to my attention at mealtime," lie said icily. Lulu flushed and was silent. She was an olive woman, once handsome, now witli flat, bluish shadows under her wistful eyes. And if only she would look at her brother Herbert and say something. But she looked at her plate. "I want some honey," shouted the child, Monona. "There isn't any, Pot," said Lulu. "I want some." said Mononn, eyeing her stonily. But : he found that her hair-ribbon could be pulled forward to meet her Hps, and she embarked on the biting of an end. Lulu departed for some sauce and cake. It was i apple sauce. Mr. Deacon remarked that the apples were almost as good as If he had stolen them. lie was giving the impression that he was an irrepressible fellow. He was eating very slowly. It added pleasantly to his sense of importance to feel that some one, there in the parlor, was waiting his motion. "She took the plant to the I woodshed and tumbled it with force upon the chip-pile." j tTO BE CONTINUED.) j I |