visitor. "I think we would have been congenial. Don't you think so?"
I paid no attention to this. What could I say?
"We consider him one of the best writers in the language," I said finally.
"I would like to hear about them," he said.
I pretended not to understand this hint; but he waited very patiently, and returned my gaze with quiet expectation.
"Now, look here," said I, calmly weighing my words, "I have, at present, other occupations which, I regret to say,"—this was sarcastic,—"prevent me from undertaking to give you a really thorough course in English literature. I might be more inclined to do so if I had something to begin on. Have you ever heard of Homer?"
"Yes," he answered eagerly; "my father has a cousin of that name—Homer Woggs!"
"I cannot believe it is the same man," said I, soberly. He seemed much disappointed. "At all events," I went on, "you cannot fail to see the folly of expecting me to explain to you all the events which have taken place since the world began. I finished school some years ago, and have no desire to review the whole curriculum."
I turned resolutely away and left him to his own devices. I worked quietly for a few moments, only to be interrupted by a "Whew!"
"What's the matter now?" I asked, irritably.
"I'm tired of lugging over these pages!"
"Well, don't do it. Sit down. Repose."
"But I'm interested in the play!"
"I'm not going to turn the pages for you."
"Could n't you read it aloud to me?" he asked, with cool assurance.
"I could, but I won't," I replied, rudely enough; but I was provoked at his impudence.
