No fear o' that. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had.
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