"Some hoarhound drops, mamma."

"You haven't a sore throat?" she asked eagerly.

"No, ma'am — not just now, but I had yesterday; and I thought
I would be provided."

"You seem provided for a long time —" Miss Pinshon remarked.

"Can't get anything up at Magnolia — except rice," said
Preston, after making the lady a bow which did not promise
good fellowship. "You must take with you what you are likely
to want there."

"You will not want all that," said his mother.

"No, ma'am, I hope not," said Preston, looking at his package
demurely. "Old uncle Lot, you know, always has a cough; and I
purpose delighting him with some of my purchases. I will go
and put them away."

"Old uncle Lot!" my aunt repeated. "What uncle Lot? I did not
know you had been enough at Magnolia to get the servants'
names. But I don't remember any uncle Lot."

Preston turned to leave the room with his candy, and in
turning gave me a look of such supreme fun — and mischief that
at another time I could hardly have helped laughing. But Miss
Pinshon was asking me if I understood arithmetic?