"No, it's a boy's book. Boys' books are the only ones I know about because they were the only ones I used to read. They were much jollier than the girls' books."
"Did your mother let you read boys' books? My mother wouldn't."
"Nor mine either. But I read them on the sly. That's what made them so enticing, I suppose."
"I can't imagine that you ever did anything on the sly, Janski," said the child, who still took idioms somewhat too literally.
"Oh, can't you? Then I'm not half such a fool as I look."
Henriette laid the book down and went over to make a demonstration of tenderness by way of intimating that she believed Janet to be the best and cleverest person in the whole world.
Janet skillfully cut this demonstration short. She believed that a child's affections, like its disaffections, should be kept well within bounds.
"Your enthusiasm for 'Tom, Dick and Harry,'" she said, in her musical voice, "leaves much to be desired. Let me tell you that it is not a book for study, but a book for light reading. If you really mean to make English your 'adopted tongue,' as you sometimes tell me, you must get used to light reading. The English-speaking nations read very little else."
Henriette gave her a look full of adoration.
"Oh, I don't need light reading while I have you. To be with you is like—it's as exciting as watching the loop-the-loop!"