"Very much," said Miss Prue, with that air of hers which made her so
great a favorite, an air of _bonhomie_, almost impossible to
describe. "We've been told on good authority that we are made in the
King's image, so it must be true."
"Oh!--_that_?" cried Betty.
"Certainly; you didn't think we free-born Yankees--descendants of the
Puritan Fathers--were going to claim relationship with any of those
effete European aristocracies, did you?" with a droll look at Sara.
"N--no."
Betty, not half understanding, but fully aware of Miss Prue's
drolleries, was determined not to be caught in any trap now, so kept to
monosyllables; and the latter, having created sufficient interest to
insure a hearing, proceeded to make her explanations in regard to such a
circle.
In a small, isolated village anything which links one, even distantly,
with the great throbbing world outside, is eagerly welcomed by the
young. These all have their dreams, hopes, and fancies connected with
this sphere on which we move, and they are usually far too wide to be
contained within one square mile of territory; unless, perchance, that
mile teems so thickly with humanity as to offer every possible form of
comedy and tragedy. For it is not trees and hills and skies, or even the
sea, which can satisfy youth; but living, breathing, suffering human
nature.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150