Cora handed it over.
Martha examined the title-page.
"'THE INGLE-NOOK'! Now what under the sun is a Ingle-Nook, I should like to know! 'THE INGLE-NOOK. Containing Dora Dean Beebe's Greatest Story: SWEET SIBYL OF THE SWEAT-SHOP, or, THE MILLIONAIRE'S MATE.' Dear me! Where'd you get aholt o' this treasure? Sund' School Lib'ry?"
"No!" blubbered Cora, recognizing the fact that her mother's question was meant to be answered.
"Where?"
"Ann Upton. Ann found it up to her house. It b'longs to her mother."
"Ho!" exclaimed Mrs. Slawson. "No wonder Mrs. Upton makes Ann stylish clo'es. If this is the sorta litherchure she improves her mind on, I can see why she feels about a good many things the way she does. The name of it, alone, is enough to make you neglect your work. I don't wonder you're longin' to shake Miss Claire's curtains, for to be findin' out about sweet Sibyl an' how she got a-holt o' one o' them grand millionaire gen'lmen, that's always hangin' 'round sweat-shops, huntin' for mates. It's bound to be a movin' story. It couldn't help it. Lemme see! What's this?
"'The ruffian eyed sweet Sibyl men'"—Martha hesitated before the elaborate, unfamiliar word confronting her—"'men-acingly. "Have a care!" he hissed through his clinch-ed teeth.' (Doncher worry, I got one, an' then some! I'd 'a' said, if I'd 'a' been Sweet Sibyl.)
"'Sibyl turned, tears gushin' to her violet eyes, an' coursin' down her blush-rose cheeks. "I will not do it!" she cried, her lovely, musical voice tremblin' with emotion. "I will not do it. Even a worm will turn."' (Well, what's the matter with that, so long as the worm's got plenty o' room to turn in, an' turnin' don't make it dizzy?) Do you know what I think? I think this little story is 'most too excitin' for young girls like us, Cora. I think your father wants to read it, instead of The New England Farmer, an' if he finds it won't keep us awake nights or won't harm our morals none, maybe he'll give it back to us."
Cora wept.