“I’ll run down to breakfast now, and then I’ll start straight for Mr.
Lothrop’s.”
“’Deed, that ain’t the ticket, Miss Mary Jane,” I says, “by no manner of means; go before breakfast.”
“Why?”
“What did you reckon I wanted you to go at all for, Miss Mary?”
“Well, I never thought — and come to think, I don’t know. What was it?”
“Why, it’s because you ain’t one of these leather-face people. I don’t want no better book than what your face is. A body can set down and read it off like coarse print. Do you reckon you can go and face your uncles when they come to kiss you good-morning, and never —