“‘If you don’t keep it locked, all the women in the neighborhood’ll be in there,’ I warned her, knowing that she couldn’t help telling her friends of what had happened.
“‘That’s no reason why the men should be unduly exposed,’ said Betsey. ‘Poor things! It’s my duty to protect you as long as I can, Socrates.’
“I promised to get rid of the books 74 somehow, and persuaded her to let them stay where they were until I had had time to think about it. Then she said:
“‘Socrates, forgive me. I didn’t mean it, and I wanted to be so nice to you. I guess it’s a just punishment for my extravagance. I thought the modern novels were bad enough. What can I do for you now?’
“‘Always, when you’re in doubt, do nothing,’ I suggested.
“‘Oh, I know what I’ll do!’ she exclaimed, joyfully. ‘I’ll knit you a pair of socks with my own hands.’
“‘Eureka!’ I shouted. ‘Those socks shall make footprints on the sands of time.’”