CHAPTER IX
MY HEROINE
When it was known that I had begun another story my mother might ask what it was to be about this time.
"Fine we can guess who it is about," my sister would say pointedly.
"Maybe you can guess, but it is beyond me," says my mother, with the meekness of one who knows that she is a dull person.
My sister scorned her at such times. "What woman is in all his books?" she would demand.
"I'm sure I canna say," replies my mother determinedly. "I thought the women were different every time."
"Mother, I wonder you can be so audacious! Fine you know what woman I mean."
"How can I know? What woman is it? You should bear in mind that I hinna your cleverness" (they were constantly giving each other little knocks).
"I won't give you the satisfaction of saying her name. But this I will say, it is high time he was keeping her out of his books."
