"Home, sweet home," exclaimed Mr. Metcalfe, taking up the newspaper
which Marguerite Verne had just laid aside. "I see you don't forget
our old sheets. Well, they _do_ look familiar."
"I must be very deeply engaged when I cannot find time to run over
the _Telegraph_ and _Sun_--the former I have read since
I was able to spell the words. It occupies a warm spot in my
affections," said Marguerite, smiling, while the soft roseate
blushes rose in sweet confusion upon her face.
"You are a Grit, I presume, Miss Verne," said the host. "I see that
your favorite journal advocates that policy?"
"I cannot say that I am, Mr. Stanhope. I have many friends on that
side, but really my sympathies go with the present government."
"Then you should transfer your affections to its leading New
Brunswick organ, Miss Verne," said the New Brunswicker.
"I admire it upon principle, sir. But pardon me, I am not versed in
politics, and cannot express myself upon the subject," exclaimed
Marguerite, taking up the _Sun_ to have a second glance at the
locals which graced its columns.
"Not versed in politics, Marguerite! Do I hear aright?" cried a
vivacious and interesting maiden of medium height and fair
proportion, with an air of hauteur in her bearing characteristic of
a model English girl.
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