And he reflected sadly on the long task ahead of him with the commonplace books. There were so many that Margaret had to make several journeys to get them all.
“Here they all are,” said the girl. “There are a great many of them, and some quite old ones.”
Five hundred years of labour and good repute were shut up within their leaves. Last of all she handed her father a memorandum book less voluminous than the others.
“In this one,” she explained, blushing a little, “I have summed up myself the principal features of our history, especially the services that have been rendered to our country. It’s a kind of abridgment in less intimate terms.”
“You guessed that we should need it some day?”
“No, father, I wrote it last winter, in revolt against the harsh judgments that were made on us. I read bits of it to mamma, while she was in bed, and she approved of it.”
“And all the time you were preparing a defence for Maurice.”
“With that, father?”
“Yes. Now, let me get to work.”
Then as she was going away he called her back.