OCR Text |
Show The Place of Honor. Farmer I lodge was of the good, old-fashioned old-fashioned school, and he always gave a feast to his hands at harvest time. It was harvest time and the feast was about to commence. Giles was the oldest hand and the hostess, with beaming cordiality, motioned mo-tioned him to the seat by her right hand. But Giles remained silently unresponsive. un-responsive. "Come," said the hostess, ' don't be bashful, Mr. Giles" he was just Giles on ordinary occasions "you've a right to the place of honor, you know." Giles deliberated a moment, then spoke. "Thank you kindly, Mrs. Hodge," he said, "but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather sit opposite this pud-den." |