“Yes—that and a good cigar.”
“Well, I haven’t smoked in some time now,” Mrs. 28 Burke replied, smiling, “so I can’t say. What a lot of things you’ve got!”
“Yes, more than I thought I had.”
“I do love to see a man tryin’ to put things to rights. He never knows where anything belongs. What an awful lot of books you’ve got! I suppose you’re just chuck full of learnin’, clean up to your back teeth; but we won’t any of us know the difference. Most city parsons preach about things that are ten miles over the heads of us country people. You can’t imagine how little thinkin’ most of us do up here. We’re more troubled with potato bugs than we are with doubts; and you’ll have to learn a lot about us before you really get down to business, I guess.”
“Yes, I expect to learn more from you than you will from me. That’s one of the reasons why I wanted to come so far out in the country.”
“Hm! I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
Mrs. Burke adjusted her glasses and gazed interestedly about the room at some pictures and decorations which Maxwell had placed in position, and inquired:
“Who is the plaster lady and gentleman standin’ on the mantelpiece?”
“The Venus de Milo, and the Hermes of Praxiteles.” 29
“Well, you know, I just can’t help preferrin’ ladies and gentlemen with arms and legs, myself. I suppose it’s real cultivated to learn to like parts of people done in marble. Maybe when I go down to the city next fall to buy my trousseau, I’ll buy a few plasters myself, to make the house look more cheerful-like.”