"Why, then you've had no dinner, poor boy," said Mara, rising suddenly. "Come in quick, you must be fed, or you'll get dangerous and eat somebody."
"No, no, don't get anything," said Moses, "it's almost supper-time, and I'm not hungry."
And Moses threw himself into a chair, and began abstractedly snipping a piece of tape with Mara's very best scissors.
"If you please, sir, don't demolish that; I was going to stay one of your collars with it," said Mara.
"Oh, hang it, I'm always in mischief among girls' things," said Moses, putting down the scissors and picking up a bit of white wax, which with equal unconsciousness, he began kneading in his hands, while he was dreaming over the strange contents of the morning's letter.
"I hope Mr. Sewell didn't say anything to make you look so very gloomy," said Mara.
"Mr. Sewell?" said Moses, starting; "no, he didn't; in fact, I had a pleasant call there; and there was that confounded old sphinx of a Miss Roxy there. Why don't she die? She must be somewhere near a hundred years old by this time."
"Never thought to ask her why she didn't die," said Mara; "but I presume she has the best of reasons for living."
"Yes, that's so," said Moses; "every old toadstool, and burdock, and mullein lives and thrives and lasts; no danger of their dying."
"You seem to be in a charitable frame of mind," said Mara.