I have always called what you just read a
poem. Is it one?" she asked, looking up with a smile.
"I think it is," replied Quincy, "and," he added inadvertently, "a very
pretty one, too."
"Oh! Mr. Judge," laughing outright "you have given aid and comfort to
the prisoner before the evidence was all in."
And Quincy was forced to laugh heartily at the acuteness she had shown
in forcing his opinion from him prematurely."
"Now, this one," said Alice, "I call a song. I know which one it is by
the size and thickness of the paper." And she handed him a foolscap
sheet.
Quincy took it and glanced over it a moment or two before he spoke,
Alice leaning forward and listening intently for the first sound of his
voice. Then Quincy uttered those ever pleasing words, "Sweet, Sweet
Home," and delivered, with great expression, the words of the song.
"You read it splendidly," cried Alice, with evident delight. "Would it
be presuming on your kindness if I asked you to read the refrain and
chorus once more, Mr. Sawyer?"
"I shall enjoy reading it again myself," remarked Quincy, as he
proceeded to comply with Alice's pleasantly worded request.
Pages:
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269