the long, dry pods of the locust-tree, sweet to the taste, but rather "dry fodder," as the impious Livy remarked after choking herself with a quarter of a yard of it.
When the week was up Mat implored to be left behind with Angela, the maid, and Brio, a big poodle possessed of the devil. But she was torn away, and only consoled by the promise of many new gloves, with as many buttons as she pleased, when they got to Munich.
"The lakes are the proper entrance to Italy, and Venice a lovely exit. One soon tires of it, and is ready to leave, which is an excellent arrangement, though I should prefer to depart in some more cheerful vehicle than a hearse," observed Lavinia, as they left the long, black gondola at the steps of the station.
"Haven't you a sigh for those lovely lakes, a tear for Albano, a pang of regret for Rome?" asked Amanda, hoping to wring one moan for Italy from the old lady.
"Not a sigh, not a tear, not a regret. I find I like them all better the farther I get from them, and by the time I am at home I may be able to say 'I