Mabel Watson Payne was in a laughing and talking mood today. Even her afternoon bottle of diluted juice was turned into an occasion for merriment.
She was absolutely confident when she got down to play afterward that she could snag her grandmother's Agatha Christie ...
.. and that her grandmother wouldn't mind. But in fact the more enjoyable book for reading purposes was a forgotten one from a high shelf that already belonged to Mabel Watson Payne.
It was a story book concerning small talkative furry animals, and this small book was itself bound in fur -- a new contributor to the recent texture-book preoccupation.