"
"Oh, could they, though!" said Ralph, the son of the house. "I dare bet
anything you couldn't do it yourself in twice the time."
"Dare you?" she answered, with a little smile. "Well, to adopt your
elegant phraseology, Master Ralph, I bet I will produce the same story,
with the same conclusion, but a different moral, in an hour--since you
allow me twice the time I named--if I may be permitted to write it in
blank verse, that is, and of course, with the understanding that what I
write is not intended to be anything but mere versified prose."
"Done with you!" cried Ralph.
"Hush--h--h!" his mother exclaimed, deprecatingly. "Betting, and
before the Bishop, too!"
"What the Bishop don't know will do him no harm, Ma," said the youth in
a stage whisper. "Sit down, Ideala, and begin. It's ten minutes to ten
now."
The Bishop slept serenely; conversation flagged; and Ideala wrote
steadily for about three-quarters of an hour; then she gathered up the
manuscript, rose from the table, and returned to her old seat.
"'The Passion of Delysle' has become 'The Choice,'" she said.
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