"Because it makes us happy."
The answer puzzled him, and touched him too.
"Poor little Clarice! If it does that, read it by all means. I will give you a small one."
He left the room, and she heard him go to his study.
"He will forget all about it!" she thought: but no, he was coming up-stairs again.
In his hand he carried a small Bible bound in crimson velvet. A gold shield on the cover bore the name "Clarice." Mr. Egerton's face was unwontedly soft and sad, as he looked at the book, as if half unwilling to part with it.
But Clarice did not perceive this as she stretched out her hands and took possession of the book.
"Oh, papa, how beautiful! I did not know that a book could be so beautiful. And my name is on it! How very strange!"
"It is yours now," he said, slowly. "It was once—It once belonged to my sister Clarice, after whom you were named: you are like her too, very like her. I will give you the book, child; but keep it out of my sight, I could not bear to see it lying about."
"Indeed, it shall never lie about," Clarice said. "Papa, I don't know how to say thank you."