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SARAH WARNER BROOKS AUTHOR OF "ENGLISH POETRY AND POETS"
Colonial Press: C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, Mass., U.S.A. Electrotyped at the Dickinson Electrotype Foundery
THESE TALES ARE GRATEFULLY AND LOVINGLY DEDICATED BY HER GRANDDAUGHTER
In the hope of interesting the reader in that insistent altruistic question of the hour--How may we best treat our _convicted_ fellow sinners?--these simple tales (the outcome of intimate personal observation "behind the bars," and woven, almost equally, of fact and fiction) are offered for his kindly-indulgent perusal.
"Well, have it all your own way, Isabel," meekly conceded Alcibiades; "but really, now, you ought not to be left here alone. Couldn't you have managed to invite company for a day or two--Aunt Maria, say, or Alice Barnes, or Emma and the baby?"
"Company!" mocked I, "that now is _like_ a man! Here am I planning to give poor, overworked Cicely a day or two off, while you are all away and the housework at its minimum, and straightway you propose _company_!--which, of course, implies regular meals and extra chamber work.
"No, I thank you, sir, not any _company_ for _me_," said I, rising from the breakfast-table to drop my husband a derisive courtesy; "and indeed, and indeed," I urged, "you are not to give up your own vacation because your wife is scared of burglars and bugbears, with neighbors as thick as blackberries, within call, and a stout policeman snoozing away his beat against our front fence!"
Alcibiades sighed and folded his napkin. I felt that he was still unconvinced. Nevertheless, he mounted the stairs, packed his grip, and, intent upon catching the next horse-car, bade me a hurried adieu. "_Au revoir!_" cried I, "in the wind of his going," "and, in case of burglars--
"'Fare thee well! and if forever, Then--'"
already he had disappeared, and, closing the door, I resumed my unfinished breakfast. When Cicely came in to clear the table, I rejoiced her heart, by a full consent to her little vacation. Relieved of mind, she plunged vigorously into the Saturday scrubbing, and, having prospectively arranged my Sunday dinner, of pressed corned beef, was enabled to start for "me cousin's in South Boston" at two P. M..