Miss Lore (calmly consulting her stenographic notes)—It is right here, word for word. (Reads.) “Afterward he set out for a stroll with a skate on.”
Mr. Penne (with peculiar emphasis)—Ah! And now will you kindly take down the expurgated phrase? (Dictates.) “Afterward he set out for a stroll with, as Kate on one occasion had fancifully told him, her spirit leaning upon his arm.”
Miss Lore—Oh!
Mr. Penne (dictates)—Chapter thirty-four. Heading—“What Kate Found in the Garden.” “That fragrant summer morning brought gracious tasks to all. The bees were at the honeysuckle blossoms on the porch. Kate, singing a little song, was training the riotous branches of her favorite woodbine. The sun, himself, had rows—”
Miss Lore—Shall I say “had risen”?
Mr. Penne (very slowly and with desperate deliberation)—“The—sun—himself—had—rows—of—blushing—pinks—and—hollyhocks—and—hyacinths—waiting—that—he—might—dry—their—dew-drenched—cups.”
Miss Lore—Oh!
Mr. Penne (dictates)—“The earliest trolley, scattering the birds from its pathway like some marauding cat, brought Cortland over from Oldport. He had forgotten his fair—”
Miss Lore—Hm! Wonder how he got the conductor to—
Mr. Penne (very loudly)—“Forgotten his fair and roseate visions of the night in the practical light of the sober morn.”