Alice didn't answer. In her, humor, as well as her thoughts, was dead. Sara looked sympathetically at her mother.
"Are you 'flecting too?" she inquired tenderly.
Alice was. She was reflecting how the mother of three children can come by a Peaceful Day.
She could not see any way out. That she had come to the end of her string, was what reflection had told her, so that evening she put it up to Tom. He rested a contemplative and somewhat menacing eye upon the children.
"If you want peace," he said, "any time after twelve to-morrow you can have it, and all Sunday too. I'll look after them!"
