Anne read Paul's poems
with real delight. They were full of charm and
promise.
"You'll be famous yet, Paul. I always dreamed of
having one famous pupil. He was to be a college
president--but a great poet would be even better. Some
day I'll be able to boast that I whipped the
distinguished Paul Irving. But then I never did whip
you, did I, Paul? What an opportunity lost! I think I
kept you in at recess, however."
"You may be famous yourself, Teacher. I've seen a
good deal of your work these last three years."
"No. I know what I can do. I can write pretty,
fanciful little sketches that children love and editors
send welcome cheques for. But I can do nothing big.
My only chance for earthly immortality is a corner in
your Memoirs."
Charlotta the Fourth had discarded the blue bows but
her freckles were not noticeably less.
"I never did think I'd come down to marrying a Yankee,
Miss Shirley, ma'am," she said. "But you never know
what's before you, and it isn't his fault. He was born
that way."
"You're a Yankee yourself, Charlotta, since you've
married one.
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