"None better," said Japhra. "I am of Stingo's crowd, as we say. Dost thou?"
"I know him very well," Percival declared. "I know his brother best. They call me a Pocket Marvel, you know; so I should like to know what you think of that?"
"Why, I think that's what thou art," said Japhra. "A rare one. There were fairies at thy christening, little master."
"What for?" asked Percival and asked it so seriously that Japhra twinkled anew and replied: "Why, there's the question again. What for? Why that sunny face they have given thee? and those fine limbs? and that straight back? What for? There's some purpose in it, little master."
He looked strangely at Percival as though behind his twinkling he indeed questioned these matters and found, as he had said, a question in all he saw. But when he saw how mystified he held Percival, he stopped his searching look and asked: "Any more questions, little master?"
He had kept his finger on the open page of his book all this time; and Percival pointed and said: "Well, what are you reading, if you please?" and was told "Robinson Crusoe."
"Why, I'm reading that!" cried Percival in much delight.
"Then thou art reading one of the only three books a man wants," said Japhra. "There's 'Pilgrim's Progress'—"
"I've read that too! In Mr. Amber's library—"
"And there's the Bible."