plant all kinds of beans, for instance; or my 'weakness,' as you call
it, for seed catalogues; or--"

She opened her magazine, and I hastened to get the stool for her feet.
As I adjusted the light for her she said:--

"Let me remind you that this is the night of the annual banquet of your
Swampatalk Club; you don't intend to forego that famous roast beef for
the seed catalogues?"

"I did n't intend to, but I must say that literature like this is
enough to make a man a vegetarian. Look at that page for an
old-fashioned New England Boiled Dinner! Such carrots. Really _they_
look good enough to eat. I think I 'll plant some of those improved
carrots; and some of these parsnips; and some--"

"You had better go get ready," she said, "and please put that big stick
on the fire for me," drawing the lamp toward her, as she spoke, so that
all of its green-shaded light fell over her--over the silver in her
hair, with its red rose; over the pink and lacy thing that wrapped her
from her sweet throat to the silver stars on her slippers.

"I'm not going to that Club!" I said. "I have talked myself for three
hours to-day, attended two conferences, and listened to one address.
There were three different societies for the general improving of
things that met at the University halls to-day with big speakers from
the ends of the earth. To-morrow night I address The First Century
Club in the city after a dinner with the New England Teachers of
English Monthly Luncheon Club--and I would like to know what we came
out here in the woods for, anyhow?"