"
"That's right, Pa," assented Mrs. Mason. ("Go on with your meal,
Professor, the meat'll be cold.") She was completely won by the
travelling bookseller, and had given him the highest title of honour
in her ken. "Why, I read that story when I was a girl, and I still
remember it. That's better readin' for Dorothy than those funeral
speeches, I reckon. I believe the Professor's right: we'd ought to
have more books laying around. Seems kind of a shame, with a famous
author at the next farm, not to read more, don't it, now?"
So by the time we got down to Mrs. Mason's squash pie (good pie,
too, I admit, but her hand is a little heavy for pastry), the whole
household was enthusiastic about books, and the atmosphere was
literary enough for even Dr. Eliot to live in without panting. Mrs.
Mason opened up her parlour and we sat there while Mifflin recited
"The Revenge" and "Maud Muller."
"Well, now, ain't that real sweet!" said Emma Mason. "It's
surprising how those words rhyme so nicely. Seems almost as though
it was done a-purpose! Reminds me of piece day at school.
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