you think anybody who hadn't paid for a month of this abomination of desolation would be likely to intrude? I guess not."
Mrs. Tarrant: "Why, how cross you are, Dick!"
Mr. Tarrant: "Do you find me so? I thought I was singularly controlled. Will you do me the honor to look at that?" He points to the Madonna.
Mrs. Tarrant deposits the vase and bust carefully on the floor, steps off a few paces, returns to them and places them on another spot, equally indefensible, considers a moment, and finally restores them to her arms; clasping them tightly to her breast, she raises her eyes to the engraving. Then: "It isn't hung straight, is it?"
Mr. Tarrant, rising in rage, and just saving the Victory from annihilation by a lightninglike clutch: "Hung straight? Hung straight? Will you tell me why it is hung at all? Did I or did I not give that man fifty cents?"
Mrs. Tarrant: "You ought to be ashamed, Dick. It's a very valuable picture. What would your aunt Caroline think? Just because you don't happen to admire it as much as most people—"
Mr. Tarrant: "I deny that they do! I deny it flatly! It's all nonsense. They think they have to; it's like Don Quixote, and all this defective statuary—it's a bluff, a bluff! I am going to form a society for people with the courage of their convictions: the Anti-Sistine—"
Mrs. Tarrant: "That sounds awfully wicked, somehow, and it's all nonsense, anyway. Now, see here, Dick; if we stand here talking all the morning, what is the good of your giving up the day to help me? Why don't we put these things down and get to work?"
Mr. Tarrant: "Well, put 'em down, then. Only, don't pick 'em up again the next minute."
They advance together to the kitchen table, lay the articles upon it, and then glance despairingly around the room.
Mr. Tarrant: "Sweet scene! Well, well, be it ever so humble—"
Mrs. Tarrant: "Dick! How can you? Now let's get to work."
Mr. Tarrant: "By all means."
They advance to the table again, seize it by opposite ends, and move it a few feet from its first position; then with an air of decision Mrs. Tarrant picks up the Victory and the tall vase and sets them on the topmost of the pile of boxes. Her husband follows her with the bust of Wagner.
Mr. Tarrant, with a sigh of well-earned relief: "There! I'm glad we've got that done! Now I can see my way."
Mrs. Tarrant glances at him suspiciously, but discovering nothing from his expression, continues to bustle about the room.
Mrs. Tarrant: "Where do you suppose the other things can be, dear? The man promised that the van would get here at nine promptly. There really isn't much we can do till the right furniture for the right rooms—"
Mr. Tarrant, bitterly: "Promised! Promised! Yes, indeed. And the agent promised that the apartment should be completely papered by yesterday noon; and the paperer promised to have the men here by eight-thirty every morning; and the dealer promised to furnish the paper last week; and the janitor promised to see that the floors were done to-day; and Lena promised to get back from her cousin's last night. Why should the carter alone be faithful?"
Mrs. Tarrant, despondently: "I know. It's dreadful. What good will it do to put the furniture right, because the floors must all be done, and the walls, too?"
Mr. Tarrant: "We'd better tackle the boxes."
Mrs. Tarrant, doubtfully: "Well, yes, except that you don't know which boxes these are."
Mr. Tarrant: "But they've got to be unpacked sometime, no matter which they are, haven't they?"
Mrs. Tarrant: "Ye-es, but—Ah, how stupid of us, Dick! They're all labelled. Just look and see what's in the top one."
Mr. Tarrant, peering about on all sides of the pyramid of boxes, and shaking his head: "There's not a label among 'em."
Mrs. Tarrant: "Why, but, dearest, there must be; you tacked them on yourself—don't you remember? The top box must be upside down, Dick, and that covers it up!"
Mr. Tarrant, with conviction: "That's it; they ought to have been labelled on the bottom."
