"
The fisherman turned over the leaves of the despised Moody and Sankey
hymnal for Madeline, was profoundly attentive while the singing was going
on, and made suave and affable remarks here and there during the
intervals; then glanced at his watch with an expression of
highly-affected concern, bade an elaborate adieu to the company, and
retired from the scene.
"Oh, I think that Mr. Rollin is so elegant, don't yew?" said Mrs. Barlow.
"Oh, yes; I think he's so genteel!"
"_I_ don't think so at all," said Lovell. "_I_ don't, certainly. _I_
don't think so."
"He _ain't_ got much voice;" said Mrs. Barlow, clasping her hands in
raptured appreciation of her matchless Lovell.
Finally, Grandpa, with a haggard smile on his features, stumbled across
the little landing of the stairway, between the parlor and the kitchen,
bearing with him a pan of much scorched and battered pop-corn.
"Oh, _ain't_ them beautiful!" arose Mrs. Barlow's reassuring cry.
Grandma had already set an example to her guests by making a convenient
receptacle of her capacious lap, and pouring some of the corn into it, an
example which the fortunate scions of the skirted tribe, now arranged in
rows on one side of the room, followed, each in turn.
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