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Mother keeps all the magazines an' paper novils, an' we allus reads 'em afore we sells 'em. I've read the gol-durndest lot o' truck ye ever heard of, so I'm posted on stories in gen'ral. I'll write one an' sell it to the Millville Tribune. Do ye s'pose they'll give me the thirty, er the fifty, Peggy?" "Anywheres between, they says. But one feller gits ten cents a word. Whew!"
Sam shook himself queerly, like a man coming out of a dream, and slowly dismounted. He moistened his dry lips. "I see you are still a-settin'," he said, "a-readin' of them billy-by-dam yaller-back novils." Sam had traveled round the circle and was himself again.
Sam climbed awkwardly into the saddle. "You're the one ought to be 'shamed to say so," he replied hotly. "'Stead of 'tendin' to a man's clothes you're al'ays setting around a-readin' them billy-by-dam yaller-back novils." "Oh, shet up and ride along," said Mrs. Webber, with a little jerk at the handles of her chair; "you always fussin' 'bout my readin'. I do a-plenty; and I'll read when I wanter.
We've got a town libry, kep up by the women mostly, with fairs and tea parties and so on. We have all the magazines reg'lar, and Saul reads out the pieces while Ruth sews and I knit, my eyes bein' poor. Our winter is long and evenins would be kinder lonesome if we didn't have novils and newspapers to cheer 'em up." "I am very glad I can help to beguile them for you.
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