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Betty had only lately discovered it, although it had stood for years on a back bench in a cobwebby corner. It held all that was left of a scattered Sunday-school library, that had been in use two generations before. Queer little books they were, time-yellowed and musty smelling, but to story-loving little Betty, hungry for something new, they seemed a veritable gold-mine.
Hither and thither would she flit, this way and that, up and down, round and round, backward and forward, about and about. But sure ye are a-weary o' this old tale! Lady Dorothy and Lord Humphrey in a breath. Nay, go on, go on. Nurse Crumpet. Well, well, o' all the story-loving bairns! But I must invent me a new history for the next time o' telling. Lord Humphrey. Nay, that thou shalt not.
'Twon't be too big. Santy Claus has come to Roney's ranch this year, sure!" THE following story is one of many which has drifted down to us from the story-loving nurseries and hearthstones of Germany.
George Kirwin, gaunt, taciturn, and hard-working, had grown out of the dreamy, story-loving boy who had been one of the Slaves of the Magic Tree and into a shy old bachelor who wept over "East Lynne" whenever it came to the town opera house, and asked for a lay-off only when Modjeska appeared in Topeka, or when there was grand opera at Kansas City.
The story-loving Rulledge remembered. "You went out with your wife and children for Easter eggs." "Oh yes. Thank you. Well, of course, in a town geographically American, the shops were all shut on Sunday, and we couldn't buy even an Easter egg on Easter Sunday.
Moon-faced babies crowed and clapped their chubby hands when she passed by their wicker-thrones; story-loving children clustered round her knee, and never were denied; pale invalids found wild-flowers on their pillows; and forlorn papas forgot the state of the moneymarket when she sang for them the homely airs their daughters had no time to learn.
Warburton smiled as she took up a shabby little volume from the table where Alice had laid it, and, quick to divine another romance, Eva said, like a story-loving child, "Do tell about it! The other was so sad." "This begins merrily, and has a wedding in it, as young girls think all tales should.
Thus started, the observer would have bent himself to study of the face; and immediately something would have suggested that while the stranger was of this period of the world he did not belong to it. Such were the magicians of the story-loving Al-Raschid. Or he was of the type Rabbinical that sat with Caiphas in judgment upon the gentle Nazarene.
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