s probable lack of comprehension on the part
of the family and public, it seemed to her that the only wise and good
course to follow would be to claim nothing for herself, but to allow
Herbert and Henry to remain undisturbed in full credit for publishing
the _Oriole_. This involved a disappointment, it is true; nevertheless,
she decided to bear it.

She had looked forward to surprising "the family" delightfully. As they
fluttered in exclamation about her, she had expected to say, "Oh, the
_poem_ isn't so much, I guess--I wrote it quite a few days ago and I'm
writing a couple new ones now--but I did take quite a lot o' time and
trouble with the rest of the paper, because I had to write every single
word of it, or else let Henry and Herbert try to, and 'course they'd
just of ruined it. Oh, it isn't so much to talk about, I guess; it just
sort of _comes_ to me to do things that way."

Thirteen attempts to exercise a great philanthropy, and every grown
person in sight, with the possible exception of Great-Uncle Joseph, goes
into wholly unanticipated fits of horror. Cause and effect have no
honest relation: Fate operates without justice or even rational
sequence; life and the universe appear to be governed, not in order and
with system, but by Chance, becoming sinister at any moment without
reason.

And while Florence, thus a pessimist, sat beside fat Uncle Joseph during
their long, long drive, relatives of hers were indeed going into fits;
at least, so Florence would have described their gestures and
incoherences of comment. Moreover, after the movies, straight into such
a fitful scene did the luckless Herbert walk when urged homeward by
thoughts of food, at about six that evening. Henry Rooter had strongly
advised him against entering the house.

"You better not," he said earnestly. "_Honest_, you better not,
Herbert!"

"Well, we got apple dumplings for dinner," Herbert said, his tone
showing the strain of mental uncertainty. "Eliza told me this morning we
were goin' to have 'em. I kind of hate to go in, but I guess I better,
Henry."

"_You_ won't see any apple dumplings," Henry predicted.

"Well, I believe I better try it, Henry."

"You better come home with me. My father and mother'll be perfectly
willing to have you."

"I know that," said Herbert. "But I guess I better go in and try it,
anyhow, Henry. I didn't have anything to do with what's in the _Oriole_.
It's every last word ole Florence's doing. I haven