The long-looked-for hour has arrived, and Crusoe and Friday emerge
from their "den," as Miss Verne contemptuously designated the
curiosity-shop. On this occasion Marguerite remains at home. Her
constitution is rather delicate, and owing to a slight cold and
throat irritation it is deemed advisable to exercise caution.
"I am sorry that you will not have your papa's company this evening.
There is to be a meeting of the Board. There is always something
going on."
"Don't mind me, mamma. Please bear in mind I am good company for
myself. I remember once reading a passage in some book which said
that all the pleasure we derived had its source in ourselves, and
not in external objects. I often think of it and believe it to be
true."
"What a sensible, but conceited girl!" exclaimed the proud matron as
she kissed Marguerite, and sallied forth to chaperone the Misses
Lister and their loquacious mamma.
"You dear old room, I'm with you once again," said the girl in half
dramatic tones, as she drew her favorite arm-chair near the grate
and sat down, not to read but to weave bright, golden dreams--fit
task for a sweet maiden of eighteen summers--with a quaint
simplicity of manner that is more captivating than all the wily
manoeuvres that coquetry can devise.
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