"Nan, Nan, you must not talk of the master in that way," her father chided.
"I thought that you did the reading," Douglas remarked, turning to Nell.
"So I do, as a rule," was the smiling reply. "But Nan doesn't like peeling apples, and so she preferred to read."
"Ugh! apples stain my fingers and make them feel horrid," Nan exclaimed in disgust. "I would rather read anything—even Shakespeare."
"How is your work getting on, sir?" Douglas enquired, turning toward the professor.
"Slowly, very slowly, these days," was the reply. "There are several points I wish to think out carefully before I put them in writing. But we can talk about such matters again. I am eager now to hear about the Church meeting which was held last night. I suppose you were there?"
"Oh, yes, I wished to see and hear the new archdeacon, Dr. Rannage."
"What, was he there?"
"Yes, and two other delegates with him."
"Tell me about the meeting, please," and the professor leaned back comfortably in his chair.