Grandfather
King couldn't resist the temptation. He stepped up to the window
and said, 'I'm glad your appetite has come back to you, Annetta.
Your mother needn't worry about your continuing to exist as long
as you can tuck away fat, salt pork in that fashion.'
"Cousin Annetta never forgave him, but she never pretended to be
delicate again."
"The Jews don't believe in eating pork," said Peter.
"I'm glad I'm not a Jew and I guess Cousin Annetta was too," said
Dan.
"I like bacon, but I can never look at a pig without wondering if
they were ever intended to be eaten," remarked Cecily naively.
When we finished our lunch the barrens were already wrapping
themselves in a dim, blue dusk and falling upon rest in dell and
dingle. But out in the open there was still much light of a fine
emerald-golden sort and the robins whistled us home in it. "Horns
of Elfland" never sounded more sweetly around hoary castle and
ruined fane than those vesper calls of the robins from the
twilight spruce woods and across green pastures lying under the
pale radiance of a young moon.
When we reached home we found that Miss Reade had been up to the
hill farm on an errand and was just leaving. The Story Girl went
for a walk with her and came back with an important expression on
her face.
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