Mrs. Jameson said Robert Browning with such an impressive and
triumphantly introductory air that it was almost impossible for a
minute not to feel that Browning was actually there in our sewing
circle. She made a little pause, too, which seemed to indicate just
that. It was borne upon Mrs. White's mind that she ought to clap,
and she made a feeble motion with her two motherly hands which one
or two of us echoed.

Mrs. Jameson began to read the selection from Robert Browning. Now,
as I have said before, we have a literary society in our village, but
we have never attempted to read Browning at our meetings. Some of us
read him a little and strive to appreciate him, but we have been
quite sure that some other author would interest a larger proportion
of the ladies. I don't suppose that more than three of us had ever
read or even heard of the selection which Mrs. Jameson read. It was,
to my way of thinking, one of the most difficult of them all to be
understood by an untrained mind, but we listened politely, and with
a semblance, at least, of admiring interest.

I think Harriet Jameson was at first the only seriously disturbed
listener, to judge from her expression. The poor child looked so
anxious and distressed that I was sorry for her. I heard afterward
that she had begged her mother not to take the Browning book, saying
that she did not believe the ladies would like it; and Mrs. Jameson
had replied that she felt it to be her duty to teach them to like
it, and divert their minds from the petty gossip which she had always
heard was the distinguishing feature of rural sewing meetings.

Mrs. Jameson read and read; when she had finished the first selection