There was nothing halfway about Aunt Lois. She was ecstatically approving or violently disapproving, never merely tolerant. She thought Mrs. Friend was an idiot, and she thought all the members of Papa’s family, particularly his sister Kit, were bigheads. She said once, and she’d say it again, that Mr. Putney was the man Mama should have married. Mr. Thorburne Putney, the distinguished lecturer. Outside of his personal and financial qualifications, it was always a good thing to have a prominent man in the family, a man who’d been all over the world. Mama only laughed at mention of this past suitor, and reminded her sister of so many ridiculous stories of him that Aunt Lois ended up weeping from laughter.

If Aunt Lois seemed in a tolerant mood, Mama would confide her worries. Aunt Lois would start criticizing Harry, saying it was always a bad thing for a man to go on the road—it always meant trouble. Then Mama would be hurt and stay away from her for two or three days, making Mrs. Friend her confidante, until Mrs. Friend would say it was just exactly the way she had prophesied, as soon as a man got to traveling he forgot his responsibilities, so this criticism sent Mama back to Aunt Lois. There was a great deal of talk about money, and usually Aunt Lois or Mrs. Friend would insist on leaving some with Mama. After these visits Mama would be depressed but the moment their father’s step was on the porch, everything was all right again.

“Goddamn it, I’m too busy to think of every little thing,” the children could hear their father say after the first joyous waltz and the gossip had begun, “I wish you wouldn’t talk to Lois or Mrs. Friend. They just upset you, honey.”

“I don’t know why I do, Harry,” their mother guiltily confessed. “Maybe I’m just lonesome for you.”

“Lonesome!” shouted their father. “I’m the one that’s lonesome. Come home every night to a cold hotel room. No wonder, I feel half sick all the time. I’m a home man, damn it, but I got to take this job to make a home! I wish folks would get that in their heads!”

The next time he went away on one of his longer trips, their mother sent Marcia and Lena to Kraus’s Store to see if they could use corn muffins and biscuits once a week. The Krauses said yes, so three times a week their mother baked and they took the baskets after school to Kraus’s. Mr. Friend ordered some for his store and other families in the neighborhood ordered regular supplies, too.

“Only don’t tell my husband,” their mother would beg. “Harry is so proud, he’d kill me.”

She couldn’t keep the secret herself, and finally told Aunt Lois.

“I won’t have to ask him for any money,” she said gleefully. “That will make him wonder, I’ll bet.”

It was fun having a secret from their father, but they waited for him to ask questions in vain. Instead, the girls heard their mother ask him playfully after a while, “Don’t you think it’s funny I don’t need any money?”