“It’s tommyrot, that’s what it is,” Amy said with conviction. “What good
does it do you to know Greek, anyway? I’ll bet you anything that Uncle
Sim himself couldn’t go to Athens tomorrow and order a cup of coffee and
a hard-boiled egg! Or, if he did order them, he’d get a morning
newspaper and toothpick. Last Spring I was in the boot-blacking emporium
in the village one afternoon and Horace came in to get his shoes
shined. There–”
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