“You’re off the mark this time,” said George.
“No, I’m not, am I Mam? Isn’t it right Mam? ‘The meek shall inevit the erf’?”
Meg was too much amused to answer.
“The meek shall have herrings on earth,” mocked the father, also amused. His daughter looked dubiously at him. She smelled impropriety.
“It’s not, Mam, is it?” she asked, turning to her mother. Meg laughed.
“The meek shall have herrings on earth,” repeated George with soft banter.
“No it’s not Mam, is it?” cried the child in real distress.
“Tell your father he’s always teaching you something wrong,” answered Meg.
Then I said I must go. They pressed me to stay.
“Oh, yes—do stop to dinner,” suddenly pleaded the child, smoothing her wild ravels of curls after having drawn off her hat. She asked me again and again, with much earnestness.