8. ” “Is this a fair sample of the dinner?” Anna asked, who had the healthy appetite of a strong young woman. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. Neither would she allow herself to feel guilty nor would she allow him to find a way into the house. Is this a reason?’ ‘Not good enough? Now I had every hope that it would appeal to you. The boiling under her stern, however, told him nothing. Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest. His name is carved upon a beam up stairs. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. To-day is for the sights; the other three days—lessons.
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