"Well, you know how to spell and define water fast enough. Why don't you look under 's' for sprite?"
"How do you spell it? I can't find it. Mebbe the dictionary's too old."
"It's Webster, Matthew. Webster don't age, at least any to hurt. I suppose it's s-p-r-i-g-h-t, ain't it, like light and sight and might and fight?"
"Don't seem to be here," said Matthew. "What is a water-sprite, mother, anyhow?"
"I don't know, my son, but I should surmise it's a kind of bug that breeds in the water."
"Well, you guess wrong, for Undine Berry's mother named her out of a fairy story, and Undine was a water-sprite and no bug! Here it is, now. It ain't spelled like 'fight,' it is 's-p-r-i-t-e,' and it means a 'spirit.'"
"Why didn't they call it so, then?" asked Mrs. Milliken. "Everybody knows 'spirit' an' nobody ever heard o' 'sprite'!"
"Well, we've learned something new, anyway, mother. I tell you a dictionary is a great book, and I'm going to keep it on the parlor table from now on."
"Not on the marble-top, Matt, for the table is dreadful weak in the legs. You don't seem to get time to do chores in the house this summer. The tall clock don't strike right, the west window in the parlor won't open good, and there's a pane o' glass broken."
"I've been too busy with the garden and my barn work, and I ain't felt so lively as common," apologized Matt, "but I'm goin' to turn over a new leaf and start right in improvin' this place. We've got money in the bank and plenty of timber big enough to sell, with a lot o' young growth comin' on besides, and there ain't any reason why we shouldn't put on a little mite o' style. I'd like some fresh paint inside and out, new-fashioned wall-paper, and water brought into the kitchen from the well—that much for a start, and more as I get goin' and can see how I can improve."