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Updated: May 6, 2025
She at least went about her tasks with her usual humming alacrity, turning work over her shoulder as easy as apple-peeling. Aunt Jen would order you to get some work if she saw you doing nothing malingering, she called it yes, and find it for you too, that is, if Mary Lyon were not in the house to tell her to mind her own business.
Perhaps I was much of both. But this is a digression. I did not pay any attention to women. I shunned them. I said that to be a great author and a philosophical thinker, one must not be a man of society. I never went to a wood-chopping, to an apple-peeling, to a corn-shucking, to a barn-raising, nor indeed to any of our rustic feasts.
At its center was a queer object, very like a short length of dried apple-peeling. "I s'pose that's part of a mouth?" she ventured. He picked up the object and balanced it across his thumb. "You've guessed it!" he declared. "And it's a fine thing to carry around with one. You see, it's a stiff upper lip." He tossed it back. "My!" She took a deep breath.
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