"We're going to use the gas or Mrs. Weed's kitchen stove."
"Why didn't we think of that?"
"I'm sure I don't know. Lack of the proper ingenuity, I suppose. By the way, have you happened to have any protracted conversation with Mrs. Weed?"
"No," replied Lee, "I've had no occasion for it. I've made some passing remark when I met her on the stairs or in the entry but that is all."
"You will find her a mine of material. She would be worth thousands to a Dickens. I was down in the kitchen this very morning pressing out a rumpled waist that I had to have in a hurry, and our conversation went something like this: 'You must be very fond of the college, Mrs. Weed, you have lived near it for so long,' I began.
"'Yes, my dear, and I want the college to have my home after I have done with it, if my children wish to sell it. I love my home. I've lived here since my husband died. He was a beautiful man. I shed a great many tears when he was taken.'
"'Yes, it must have been very hard,' I answered, rather at sea for proper condolences and anxious to change the subject. 'I believe you said you were from Vermont, Mrs. Weed. Do you ever go there now?'
"'No, my dear,' she said, 'I don't care to. It makes me think of my dear mother, and of how many nice things she used to make. It always makes me shed tears to think of all that.'
"'But you have such a pleasant home here, Mrs. Weed. You are almost within the college grounds.' I made an effort to send the ball back to my end of the field.
"'I know, and I enjoy the college grounds. I have seen a great many changes, though. There used to be such a handsome rose-bush, just by the entrance, but they took it up. I don't know why they did it. I sat down and cried when it was gone; I missed it so.'