She writes love stories and sich for city papers.
Some on 'em makes a lot." It is not always cheering to overhear too much.

When some of my friends, whom I had taken to a favorite junk shop, felt after two hours of purchase and exploration that they must not keep me waiting any longer, the man, in his eagerness to make a few more sales, exclaimed: "Let her wait; her time ain't wuth nothin'!" At an auction last summer, one man told me of a very venerable lantern, an heirloom in his first wife's family, so long, measuring nearly a yard with his hands.

I said I should like to go with him to see it, as I was making a collection of lanterns.

He looked rather dazed, and as I turned away he inquired of my friend "if I wusn't rather--" She never allowed him to finish, and his lantern is now mine.
People seem to have but little sentiment about their associations with furniture long in the family.
The family and a few intimate friends usually sit at the upper windows gazing curiously on the crowd, with no evidence of feeling or pathetic recollections.
I lately heard a daughter say less than a month after her father's death, pointing to a small cretonne-covered lounge: "Father made me that lounge with his own hands when I's a little girl.

He tho't a sight on't it, and allers kep' it 'round.