She was, however, still kneeling against the window-seat, her elbows planted on the great folio, and her head between her hands, reading intently.
‘Little Madam,’ said he, ‘what great book have you got there?’
‘As You Like It,’ said Phyllis.
‘What! are you promoted to reading Shakspeare?’
‘I have not read any but this,’ said Phyllis. ‘Ada and I have often looked at the pictures, and I liked the poor wounded stag coming down to the water so much, that I read about it, and then I went on. Was it wrong, Claude? no one ever told me not.’
‘You are welcome to read it,’ said Claude, ‘but not now—it is too dark. Come and sit in the great chair on the other side of the fire, and be sociable. And what do you think of ‘As You Like It?’’
‘I like it very much,’ answered Phyllis, ‘only I cannot think why Jacks did not go to the poor stag, and try to cure it, when he saw its tears running into the water.’
To save the character of Jacks, Claude gravely suggested the difficulty of catching the stag, and then asked Phyllis her opinion of the heroines.
‘Oh! it was very funny about Rosalind dressing like a man, and then being ready to cry like a girl when she was tired, and then pretending to pretend to be herself; and Celia, it was very kind of her to go away with Rosalind; but I should have liked her better if she had stayed at home, and persuaded her father to let Rosalind stay too. I am sure she would if she had been like Ada. Then it is so nice about Old Adam and Orlando. Do not you think so, Claude? It is just what I am sure Wat Greenwood would do for Redgie, if he was to be turned out like Orlando.’
‘It is just what Wat Greenwood’s ancestor did for Sir Maurice Mohun,’ said Claude.