“I won’t stand it! I’ll go away and never come back, never! I’ll tell Aunt Lois, I’ll tell everybody!” She ran out of the kitchen door, giving it a good bang. Papa got up and walked slowly toward the door, not looking at his wife. She sat gnawing her fingernails nervously. Florrie got up and went over to Papa, slipping her hand in his. Minelda screwed up her little white face into crying position and made whimpering demands to go bye-bye. Marcia could see Lena running down the street toward Mary Evelyn’s or maybe Grandma’s. Now Lena would be the one to run away, and that meant she’d have to stay, at least for a while. Lena always got first chance at everything.

“Goodness only knows what stories she’s started telling this very minute,” muttered Mrs. Willard. “I won’t dare lift my head by the time she’s started her lies.”

Marcia thought Lena wouldn’t tell though, because Lena didn’t want the town feeling sorry for them any more than Marcia did. With a sudden sinking feeling she remembered that Lena had borrowed her five-dollar goldpiece that afternoon to show Myrtle Chase. Now Lena would keep it. She’d run away with it, and it was just like her, Marcia thought with rising wrath. She had even guessed that Marcia was planning to run away with it, but Marcia wouldn’t confess it when she challenged her. So now Lena would run away with it. You couldn’t trust anybody. Well, she would show her soon enough that two could run away as well as one.

“Never fear, she’ll be back, Harry,” said Mrs. Willard. “Come and finish your supper.”

Papa sat down and nobody said anything. Marcia hoped he would mention the rice being burned and the bread being mildewed, but he didn’t seem to notice, or if he did his wife’s bad cooking was by this time no cause for comment. Suddenly Florrie began to sob softly.

“I hope Lena won’t get killed like Grandpa Willard,” she moaned. “Can’t you do something, Papa?”

But Papa only took out a cigar and smoked morosely, never looking up to meet his wife’s watchful eyes. At dark he went out. Marcia and Florrie went upstairs whispering, and watched the front window for his return.

“Maybe she ran away to California to Aunt Lois,” said Florrie. “Do you think maybe she’s gone to live with Mary Evelyn? Maybe Grandma will let her stay with her.”

When Papa came home they heard him haranguing his wife in the bedroom, and in the midst of this they thought they heard something about Mary Evelyn’s mother saying Lena was spending the night there. Mary Evelyn’s mother had had the nerve to tell Papa he would have to do something about the way his children were neglected, especially Lena, before she, Mrs. Stewart, would even advise the child to go home. Papa was pretty mad at Mrs. Stewart, who he said had always had her nose in everybody’s business from way back, but he was mad at his wife too. The girls could hear her protesting, “But, Harry—” and finally Papa shouted, “Goddamn it, why can’t you cook rice without burning it? I don’t ask for any Hotel Astor cooking; all I ask is a little rice that’s not burned once in a while.”