"
"And thus I'm privileged to meet representatives of those two
ancient and honorable schools, the Stoic and Epicurean, and you both
think, I fear, that if Xanthippe had founded a school, my philosophy
would also be defined. But perhaps you will think better of me if
I tell that little fellow a story to pass the time for him. What's
the matter, little folk?" she asked, for two or three more small
clouded faces had gathered at the door.
"Matter enough," said the boy. "This horrid old rain keeps us in
the house, where we can't do anything or stay anywhere. We mustn't
play in the parlor, we mustn't make a noise in the halls, we mustn't
run on the piazzas. I'd like to live in a world where there was
some place for boys."
"Poor child," said Miss Burton; "this rain is as bad for you as
the deluge to Noah's dove, it has left you no refuge for the sole
of your foot. Will you come with me? No one has said you must
not hear a jolly story."
"You won't tell me about any good little boys who died when they
were as big as I am?"
"I'll keep my word--it shall be a jolly story."
"May we hear it too?" asked the other children.
"Yes, all of you."
"Where shall we go?"
"We won't disturb any one in the far corner of the parlor by the
piano.
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