"All of us are not so fortunate." "Then it must be you don't covet the place or the title," said mother more soberly.

"Any woman will crown the man she marries, if he will allow her.

Paul went farther.

He compelled it." "I wonder how!" said Mr.Pryor, his eyes steadily watching mother's face.
"By never failing in a million little things, that taken as a whole, make up one mighty big thing, on which he stands like the Rock of Ages." "Yet they tell me that you are the mother of twelve children," he said, as if he marvelled at something.
"Yes!" cried mother, and the word broke right through a bubbling laugh.
"Am I not fortunate above most women?
We had the grief to lose two little daughters at the ages of eight and nine, all the others I have, and I rejoice in them." She reached out, laid a hand on me, drew me to her, and lightly touched my arm, sending my spirits sky-high.

She wasn't going to do a thing to me, not even scold! Mr.Pryor stared at her like Jacob Hood does at Laddie when he begins rolling Greek before him, so I guess what mother said must have been Greek to Mr.Pryor.
"I came to see Mr.Stanton," he said suddenly, and crosslike as if he didn't believe a word she said, and had decided she was too foolish to bother with any longer; but he kept on staring.