There are some folks so purse-proud that they call pies tarts." She looked askance at him.

There were times when she wasn't quite sure of this boy of hers.

He might be serious, and then again he might be quietly laughing.

But she saw with satisfaction that the pie disappeared.
"The world, Richard, isn't what it was in my time." "I dare say it isn't, Aunty; yet cherries are just as good as ever and June as beautiful.

It isn't the world, Aunt o' mine; it's the plaguy people.