“I am to do the library,” she made the much more significant announcement. “The servants are all busy.”
“There is nothing like giving the servants a great deal of work,” he declared enthusiastically.
“While I’m doing this,” she remarked, “you may instruct me about Alaska.”
She moved at once upon the book-case. Her arms were guarded by sleeve-protectors of a pink and white apple-blossom design.
“You mustn’t think,” he made a beginning, “that gold is the only interest there. In the fiscal year of 1908 the merchandise shipments alone amounted to roughly twenty-six million, eight hundred and seventy-five thousand, three hundred and seventy-three dollars.”
“What is a fiscal year?” she inquired.
“The sorriest of all years; the twelve month space between dollar marks. I don’t remember that I ever had one.”
“I think Aunt Philomela must have them. I forgot to tell you that her accounts came out right, in the end.”
“I had no doubt they would,” he said.
He watched her a moment.