Then great-uncle Philip died, and his carload of books came to us.  He had been a college professor, and years ago when Andrew was a boy Uncle Philip had been very fond of him—­had, in fact, put him through college.  We were the only near relatives, and all those books turned up one fine day.  That was the beginning of the end, if I had only known it.  Andrew had the time of his life building shelves all round our living-room; not content with that he turned the old hen house into a study for himself, put in a stove, and used to sit up there evenings after I had gone to bed.  The first thing I knew he called the place Sabine Farm (although it had been known for years as Bog Hollow) because he thought it a literary thing to do.  He used to take a book along with him when he drove over to Redfield for supplies; sometimes the wagon would be two hours late coming home, with old Ben loafing along between the shafts and Andrew lost in his book.

I didn’t think much of all this, but I’m an easy-going woman and as long as Andrew kept the farm going I had plenty to do on my own hook.  Hot bread and coffee, eggs and preserves for breakfast; soup and hot meat, vegetables, dumplings, gravy, brown bread and white, huckleberry pudding, chocolate cake and buttermilk for dinner; muffins, tea, sausage rolls, blackberries and cream, and doughnuts for supper—­that’s the kind of menu I had been preparing three times a day for years.  I hadn’t any time to worry about what wasn’t my business.

And then one morning I caught Andrew doing up a big, flat parcel for the postman.  He looked so sheepish I just had to ask what it was.

“I’ve written a book,” said Andrew, and he showed me the title page—­

  Paradise regained
  by
  Andrew McGILL

Even then I wasn’t much worried, because of course I knew no one would print it.  But Lord! a month or so later came a letter from a publisher—­accepting it!  That’s the letter Andrew keeps framed above his desk.  Just to show how such things sound I’ll copy it here: 

  Decameron, Jones and company
  publishers
  Union square, new York

  January 13, 1907.

Dear Mr. McGILL: 

We have read with singular pleasure your manuscript “Paradise Regained.”  There is no doubt in our minds that so spirited an account of the joys of sane country living should meet with popular approval, and, with the exception of a few revisions and abbreviations, we would be glad to publish the book practically as it stands.  We would like to have it illustrated by Mr. Tortoni, some of whose work you may have seen, and would be glad to know whether he may call upon you in order to acquaint himself with the local colour of your neighbourhood.

We would be glad to pay you a royalty of 10 percent upon the retail price of the book, and we enclose duplicate contracts for your signature in case this proves satisfactory to you.