Page:My Friend Annabel Lee (1903).pdf/64

 horse at last safely back at Uncle Gray's farm, the horse placidly munching oats in his own stall, and the boy eating supper once more with appetite unimpaired, and the crabbed uncle once more serene. And—if you know Trowbridge's books—you can eat, too, tranquilly.

When a boy is left alone in the world by the death of his aunt and starts out to find his uncle in Cincinnati—if you know Trowbridge's books—you prepare for hardship and weariness, but still occasional sandwiches and doughnuts (but not the greasy kind). And always you know there must be a haven in the house of the uncle in Cincinnati. Only—if you know the Trowbridge books—you are fearful when you get to the uncle's door, and you would a little rather the boy went in to meet him while you waited outside. Trowbridge's uncles are apt to be so sour as to heart, and so bitter as to tongue, and