His class was reading a selection called the "Miller." The teacher, Mr. Armstrong, permitted the members of the class to remain in their desks and there read. Charlie abused this privilege by clapping his head below his desk, and while the boys in another part of the room were reading, he was doing his best to pack away a corn-ball.
His mouth was full of corn-ball and preparing itself to take in more, when his teacher, watching the long detention of Charlie's head in such a humble posture, and suspicious of the real reason, stole softly up behind Charlie and, looking over his shoulder, was puzzled to decide whether the corn-ball was going into Charlie or he into the corn-ball.
Good news!" she cried, rushing into the house, her head, with its multitude of curl-papers, looking like a huge corn-ball. "Two duckies have pecked out!" "You don't say so!" said Susy, coolly. "High time, I should think!" So thought the patient and astonished old hen, who had been wondering every day for a week if this wasn't an uncommonly "backward season."
He quietly stole back to his desk and there abruptly shouted, "Macomber, you may read about the 'Miller' at once." The shot struck. Charlie bounded up in great confusion, his month full of corn-ball! "Hold, Macomber!" said the master, in a very sarcastic way.
Still, I shouldn't ha' picked out just that kind of a wife for him." "As I understand," the storekeeper began; but here he caught sight of Widow Seth Wray's boy, and asked, "What's wanted, Bub? Corn-ball?" and turning to take that sweetmeat from the shelf behind him he added the rest in the mouth of the hollowly reverberating jar, "She's got prop'ty."
"Well, I never knew a Mulbridge yet 't objected to prop'ty, especially, other folks's." "Barlow he's tellin' round that she 's very fine appearin'." He handed the corn-ball to Widow Seth Wray's boy, who went noiselessly out on his bare feet. Cap'n Billy drew several long breaths.
Why, Granny, I can’t do a single thing that’s any good to anybody.” The next day the shop was crowded. By night there was not an apple, a corn-ball or a mollolligob left. “I shall have a sale like this once a week in the future,” Maida said. “Why, Granny, lots and lots of children came here who’d never been in the shop before.” And so what looked like serious trouble ended very happily.
Cap'n George Wray, tilted back against the wall in his chair, continued to stare at the store-keeper; Cap'n Jabez Wray, did not look up from whittling the chair between his legs; their cousin, Cap'n Wray Storrell, seated on a nailkeg near the stove, went on fretting the rust on the pipe with the end of a stiff, cast-off envelope; two other captains, more or less akin to them, continued their game of checkers; the Widow Seth Wray's boy rested immovable, with his chin and hand on the counter, where he had been trying since the Widow Holman went out to catch Hackett's eye and buy a corn-ball.