human
Indeed, we will come,
gpt
You're very good, Mrs. Grey,
human
The Greys, began Roberta, in a perfectly dispassionate, narrative tone, as her mother went toward the house,
gpt
Rob!
human
Fact! Isn't the trailing arbutus the Mayflower? said Rob, unabashed.
gpt
It's a more appropriate name, too, because the descendants of the Pilgrims have 'trailed clouds of glory as they came,' like the soul in Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality--I trust you have heard of Wordsworth, little boys? If you doubt that the Greys are of Mayflower descent on the maternal side, just go ask their aunt-in-law, Azraella Winslow.
human
Oh, Rob; how can you?
gpt
Why, that's true, Wythie; they won't have to ask her, will they?
human
No, don't ask; just listen. Well, the Greys are poor, but respectable. I hope that they are very respectable, for I can testify from accurate knowledge that they are very poor. They have lots of books, worn shabby, but as good as ever, and the two oldest girls study hard at home--as well as they can--but the youngest they contrive to keep at school. The second daughter is digging away at German alone, and she wishes that everything wasn't divided off into masculine and feminine genders, like a Quaker meeting. However, my brethren, this is not history--only natural history, maybe. To return to the Grey Annals: The dear father Grey is a genius, and he is inventing something so clever and valuable that one day the Greys will be rich. The darling mother Grey is perfect, and a heroine, and nobody on earth could love her enough. The Grey girls help her do the housework, and they economize--economize _terrific_! But they do have fun, and they're happy, and when you came along they were economically trying to cut their own grass, under the rash leadership of the second daughter, and the grass would not succumb to a mower. And that brings my story right up to date--it may be continued in our next issue.