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.
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