"Yes; that's what she calls 'em, an' she's read me some powerful amazin' stories out of 'em—them as was in short words—of folks that rose up almost from th' dead! They're wonderful!"
"They are, indeed!"
"But what I always liked th' best was them there papers tellin' about clo'es."
"Eternal feminine!"
"I don't know what you mean by that, but they are mighty peart, some o' them dresses pictured out in them there papers."
"I've not the least doubt of it."
"And I suppose they are th' kind th' girls you know, down in th' bluegrass, wear for ev'ry day!" she sighed.
He looked at her in quick compassion and in protest.
"Madge," he said, "please listen to me. It's not dress that makes the woman, any more than it is coats that make the man. You would like me just as well if I were dressed in homespun, wouldn't you?"
"That's different."