“It’s just right for the lady who won it,” commented Mr. Abercrombie, “but not at all appropriate for an orange girl of twelve. Now, you come with me, and we’ll find the second prize right here and now.”
He offered his arm as formally as if to a duchess, and in obedience to Miss Merington’s smile and nod, Marjorie walked away with him.
He paused at the book stall, which was a somewhat ungainly old tree trunk, bearing the legend, “The Tree of Knowledge.”
Beneath it on a table lay the books, under a sign, “Nothing but Leaves.”
Mr. Abercrombie selected a fine edition of Longfellow’s Poems, and inscribed Marjorie’s name and the date on the flyleaf.
Beneath it he wrote:
“From one who appreciates Yew,” and presented it in a flourishing fashion.
Midget had now entirely regained her composure, and she thanked him politely and prettily, and then ran away to join Miss Merington and Delight.
CHAPTER XX
A SPRING RAMBLE
“Only think!” cried Marjorie, as she sprang out of bed, “Father and Mother are coming home to-day!”