“Come, Lois, if I was you, I wouldn't talk so like a Sadducee,” said my grandmother. “What would become of all the accounts in Dr. Cotton Mather's 'Magnilly' if folks were like you?”
“Wal,” said Sam Lawson, drooping contemplatively over the coals, and gazing into the fire, “there's a putty consid'able sight o' things in this world that's true; and then ag'in there's a sight o' things that ain't true. Now, my old gran'ther used to say, 'Boys, says he, 'if ye want to lead a pleasant and prosperous life, ye must contrive allers to keep jest the happy medium between truth and falsehood.' Now, that are's my doctrine.”
Aunt Lois knit severely.
“Boys,” said Sam, “don't you want ter go down with me and get a mug o' cider?”
Of course we did, and took down a basket to bring up some apples to roast.
“Boys,” says Sam mysteriously, while he was drawing the cider, “you jest ask your Aunt Lois to tell you what she knows 'bout Ruth Sullivan.”
“Why, what is it?”
“Oh! you must ask her. These 'ere folks that's so kind o' toppin' about sperits and sich, come sift 'em down, you gen 'lly find they knows one story that kind o' puzzles 'em. Now you mind, and jist ask your Aunt Lois about Ruth Sullivan.”
