With that he went into the house and came back immediately bringing a lamp in one hand—for it had grown pretty dark—and a familiar, portly, blue-bound book in the other. While he was gone the woman said:
“You have touched Mr. Vedder in his weakest spot.”
“I know of no combination in this world,” said I, “so certain to produce a happy heart as good books and a farm or garden.”
Mr. Vedder, having returned, slipped on his spectacles, sat forward on the edge of his rocking-chair, and opened the book with pious hands.
“I'll find it,” he said. “I can put my finger right on it.”
“You'll find it,” said Mrs. Vedder, “in the chapter on 'Hedges.'”
“You are wrong, my dear,” he responded, “it is in 'Mistakes of Citizens in Country Life.'”
He turned the leaves eagerly.
“No,” he said, “here it is in 'Rural Taste.' Let me read you the passage, Mr.—”
“Grayson.”