"
"Good!" cried Medora heartily.
Pearson, whispering to Amy Leffingwell, gave little heed to Cope and his
strained endeavor to please Mrs. Phillips. Foster, quite passive, listened
with curiosity for what might come.
"Or perhaps you would prefer folk-lore," Cope went on. "Why the Sassafras
has Three Kinds of Leaves, or something like that."
"Better yet!" exclaimed Medora. "Listen, everybody. Why the Sassafras has
Three Kinds of Leaves."
Pearson stopped his buzzings, and Cope began. "The Wood-nymphs," he said
slowly, "were a nice enough lot of girls, but they labored under one great
disadvantage: they had no thumbs."
Hortense pricked up her ears. Did he mean to be personal? If so, he should
find that one of the nymphs had a whole hand as surely as he himself had a
cheek.
Cope paused. "Of course you've got to postulate _something_," he
submitted apologetically.
"Of course," Medora agreed.
"So when they bought their gloves, or mittens, or whatever their handgear
might be called, they usually patronized the hickory or the beech or some
other tree with leaves that were----"
"Ovate!" cried Medora delightedly.
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