"No, he cannot, and you know it very well," said Magnus decidedly. "Leave fib-land to me. I wish you would show me the very chapter, please, Mr. Erskine."
"Hand me the book—there it is, love, on my table."
"I'll bring you another, papa,—" and Cherry went swiftly to the next room.
Magnus, however, had his own private reasons for thwarting her whenever he could, if it was only in the choice of a book; and before she could get back he had brought the other volume to Mr. Erskine.
"Papa, this is better," Cherry said, coming in; but Magnus shook his head at her, and she silently came down to her seat again. Then came a surprise.
Magnus had been so busy watching her that neither book had had much notice. Now, as Mr. Erskine turned the leaves, saying: "Here, this is the place," Magnus bent down over his friend's shoulder to look, and behold! he could not read one word. It might be the Revelation—but it was also Greek. At least, so he supposed.
"Well, which was the book she was reading from that day?" he said, looking at Cherry, who now sat perfectly still, with the other Testament in her lap and her hands folded upon it. And if it had not been impossible, he would have thought she was biting her lips hard to keep back a laugh.
"This is the very one," said Mr. Erskine, all unconscious. "She always reads in this—we both like it better. It is worn on the outside," he went on, turning the book over and giving the vellum affectionate touches, "but I like these old bindings, don't you? The time-stained cover for the things which time can neither stain nor wear out. This was the book and the place where she read that morning."
"I should like to hear her read it now," said Cadet Kindred, feeling considerably dazed.
"Read it to him, love," said Mr. Erskine, giving the old book to her; and without raising her eyes Cherry obeyed, but in tones so low, that but for their clearness, the eager listener could hardly have caught one word. Understand one word he did not.