But I shall make you a fair offer . I have heard from my housekeeper 's urchin of a son that you are a ` master hand ' to tell stories . Tell me one , here and now . I shall pay you in proportion to the entertainment you afford me . Come now , and do your prettiest . '' There was a fine mockery in his tone that put the Story Girl on her mettle instantly . She sprang to her feet , an amazing change coming over her . Her eyes flashed and burned ; crimson spots glowed in her cheeks . `` I shall tell you the story of the Sherman girls , and how Betty Sherman won a husband , '' she said . We gasped . Was the Story Girl crazy ? Or had she forgotten that Betty Sherman was Mr. Campbell 's own great-grandmother , and that her method of winning a husband was not exactly in accordance with maidenly traditions . But Mr. Campbell chuckled again . `` An excellent test , '' he said . `` If you can amuse ME with that story you must be a wonder . I 've heard it so often that it has no more interest for me than the alphabet . '' `` One cold winter day , eighty years ago , '' began the Story Girl without further parley , `` Donald Fraser was sitting by the window of his new house , playing his fiddle for company , and looking out over the white , frozen bay before his door . It was bitter , bitter cold , and a storm was brewing . But , storm , or no storm , Donald meant to go over the bay that evening to see Nancy Sherman . He was thinking of her as he played ` Annie Laurie , ' for Nancy was more beautiful than the lady of the song .
` Her face , it is the fairest that e'er the sun shone XXXXX , ' hummed Donald -- and oh , he thought so , too !
If as before by for in of on that with