“‘Well, you know he took the first 72 prize in literature, and ought to have excellent taste. Then the young man who sold the set to me is working his way through Yale. I was glad to help him, too; he recommended these books––said they were moral and uplifting––not at all like the modern trash. He knew that we enjoyed home reading. Mary will read them aloud to us, and we’ll enjoy them together.’
“This father of romance was not unknown to me, and I did not share her confidence in the joys ahead of us, but said nothing.
“After a fine dinner Betsey wanted to start in at once. We sat down by the fireside while her secretary began to read aloud from one of the treasured volumes. I had not read the story, and chose it as being the least likely to make trouble. In a short time we came to rough going and the young woman began to falter.
“‘That will do,’ said Betsey, suddenly, as I tried to conceal my emotions.
“She took the book from the hands of her secretary and read on in silence for a minute or so.
“‘My land!’ she exclaimed, with a look of horror. ‘That book would corrupt the morals of John Bunyan.’
“‘Never mind; John never lived in Pointview,’ I argued. ‘He didn’t have a chance to get hardened.’
“Betsey had a determined look in her face, and rang for the coachman.
“‘I’ll have them stored in the stable,’ said she, firmly.