But his torture was only begun.  Dexie was determined to crowd into a few hours the annoyance he had spread over several days in her case.  Her plans were well laid, and she had even studied a book of statistics for his benefit.  A few minutes before dinner was announced, while Gussie was adding a few touches to her toilet, Dexie came into her room, and, after a few general remarks, said:  “Mr. Plaisted has come to dinner, has he not?”

“Yes, papa sent him up.  I hope you have something nice for dinner, Dexie.”

This was the very question that Dexie hoped to hear, so she replied:  “Oh! yes, I think it will pass.  There is some nicely-cooked shad for the fish course; but if that does not suit Mr. Plaisted’s fancy, there is sufficient besides.  Say, Gussie, I don’t often ask a favor, but I wish to-day you would praise the shad.”

“Praise the shad!  Why on earth should I praise the shad!  If it is cooked nice, isn’t that enough?”

“No, Gussie, not for this occasion; I’m afraid Mr. Plaisted will not be partial to shad, but if the rest of us seem to like it, of course he cannot refuse it.”

“Oh! all right.  I’ll not only praise the shad, but I’ll make Mr. Plaisted think there is nothing I like better.”

Gussie hastened down to the parlor, where Mr. Plaisted was waiting, while Dexie threw herself into a chair in muffled shrieks of laughter.

“There, now, I guess I can keep a straight face till the time arrives;” and a few minutes later she followed the family to the dining-room.

There was certainly nothing amiss in the manner of the cooking or serving of the shad, and the presence of this particular fish at the table did not strike Plaisted as unusual, until Mr. Sherwood asked if he would be “helped to shad.”

His mind by this time had become almost normal, but that one word threw him back into his former state, and brought again that tormenting refrain, “Dear Shadrach! my Shad!” He glared at the dish containing the fish as if he would annihilate it; but, hastily collecting his scattering senses, he took the plate Mr. Sherwood passed him, thinking it a strange coincidence that the never-till-now hated fish should be thrust before him at this moment.  He tried to be his natural self, but those haunting lines had full possession of him, and every mouthful seemed to choke him.

Dexie was watching him closely, and felt sure that his abstraction was due to the one cause, and she silently enjoyed his discomfiture.

Gussie, who sat opposite, also noticed it, and remembering her promise to Dexie, began: 

“Oh!  Mr. Plaisted, I’m afraid you do not care for shad!  How unfortunate that we happen to have it for dinner to-day!  We are all very fond of shad, myself especially, and this is very nicely cooked, just to my liking,” and she gave Dexie a sideward look.

“Yes, we all like shad, even to the cat,” said the irrepressible Georgie.  “I found her with her nose in the basket the first thing.”