I guess likely that feller must have
been my great, great, great granddad."
Major Grover looked surprised.
"I've read that story," he said, "but I can't remember where."
Jed was stirring his chowder. "Eh?" he said, absently. "Where?
Oh, 'twas in--the--er--'Prince and the Pauper,' you know. Mark
Twain wrote it."
"That's so; I remember now. So you've read 'The Prince and the
Pauper'?"
"Um-hm. Read about everything Mark Twain ever wrote, I shouldn't
wonder."
"Do you read a good deal?"
"Some. . . . There! Now we'll call that chowder done for the
second time, I guess. Set down and pass your plate, Babbie.
You'll set down and have a bite with us, won't you, Mr.--Major--I
snum I've forgot your name. You mustn't mind; I forget my own
sometimes."
"Grover. I am a major in the Engineers, stationed here for the
present to look after this construction work. No, thank you, I
should like to stay, but I must go back to my office."
"Dear, dear! That's too bad. Babbie and I would like first-rate
to have you stay. Wouldn't we, Babbie?"
Barbara nodded.
"Yes, sir," she said. "And the chowder will be awf'ly good. Uncle
Jed's chowders always are."
"I'm sure of it." Major Grover's look of surprise was more evident
than ever as he gazed first at Barbara and then at Mr. Winslow.
His next question was addressed to the latter.
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