The Life And Poems Of Theodore Winthrop

Here I plied him with eager questions and breathlessly ran riot through the enormous library in his study and peered for hours through the gleaming barrels of microscopes at the strange and beautiful forms of pond life that Theodore, like a magician, seemed able to conjure out of any drab, dirty stretch of water. After my first visit to Theodore, I asked Mother tentatively whether I might ask him to come to tea with us. вЂI suppose so, dear,’ said Mother. вЂI hope he speaks English, though.’ Mother’s battle with the Greek language was a losing one. Only the day previously she had spent an exhausting morning preparing a particularly delicious soup for lunch, and having concluded this to her satisfaction, she put it into a soup tureen and handed it to the maid. The maid looked at her inquiringly, whereupon Mother used one of the few Greek words that she had managed to commit to memory. вЂExo,’ she had said firmly, waving her arms. вЂExo.’ She then went on with her cooking and turned round just in time to see the maid pouring the last of the soup down the sink ...»