 fly well
dusted with meal, must suffer a little at a cousin's table where the fly was au
naturel, and the lady-spiders must be mutually shocked at each other's
appearance. But the part of the mill she liked best was the topmost story - the
corn-hutch, where there were the great heaps of grain, which she could sit on
and slide down continually. She was in the habit of taking this recreation as
she conversed with Luke, to whom she was very communicative, wishing him to
think well of her understanding, as her father did.
    Perhaps she felt it necessary to recover her position with him on the
present occasion, for, as she sat sliding on the heap of grain near which he was
busying himself, she said, at that shrill pitch which was requisite in
mill-society -
    »I think you never read any book but the Bible - did you, Luke?«
    »Nay, Miss - an' not much o' that,« said Luke, with great frankness. »I'm no
reader, I aren't.«
    »But if I lent you one of my books, Luke? I've not got any very pretty books
that would be easy for you to read; but there's Pug's Tour of Europe - that
would tell you all about the different sorts of people in the world, and if you
didn't understand the reading, the pictures would help you - they show the looks
and ways of the people, and what they do. There are the Dutchmen, very fat, and
smoking, you know - and one sitting on a barrel.«
    »Nay, Miss, I'n no opinion o' Dutchmen. There ben't much good i' knowin'
about them.«
    »But they're our fellow-creatures, Luke - we ought to know about our
fellow-creatures.«
    »Not much o' fellow-creaturs, I think, Miss; all I know - my old master, as
war a knowin' man, used to say, says he, If e'er I sow my wheat wi'out brinin',
I'm a Dutchman, says he; an' that war as much as to say as a Dutchman war a
fool, or next door. Nay, nay, I aren't goin' to bother mysen about Dutchmen.
There's fools enoo - an' rogues enoo - wi' out lookin' i' books for 'em.«
    »O, well,«
