“It is my precious annotated edition of Cicero,” said Mr. Dale. “I have written your name in it—‘Pauline Dale, from her affectionate father.’ It is yours now, and it will be yours in the future. If you like to leave it on the shelf in my study, I shall not object, but it is yours to do what you like with.”
He sighed profoundly, and turned away with his lip trembling.
“Good gracious!” Miss Tredgold was heard to exclaim. Then she spoke to Adelaide.
“Run into the house and bring out a cup of coffee. The precious man gets queerer each moment. What a present to give the child!”
Pauline raised the big book and clasped it against her neat lilac frock.
“Thank you, father,” she said. “I will learn to read it. Thank you very much.”
“And you don’t object to its occupying its old place on my shelf?”
“No. Shall I run and put it there now?”
“Do. You are really a wise child. Sophia, as I have given Pauline her present, I presume I need not stay out any longer wasting my precious time and running the risk of sunstroke.”
Miss Tredgold nodded and laughed. Adelaide appeared with the coffee. Mr. Dale drank it off at a single draught. Pauline ran into the house with the treasure which was hers and yet not hers. For surely never during his lifetime would Mr. Dale allow that special edition of Cicero out of his study. She put it gravely and quietly into its accustomed place, kissed her father, told him she appreciated his present beyond words, and then went back to her sisters and aunt, who were waiting for her.