“When my nerves are ruffled, I always find that recitation is the greatest help to me,” said Belle. “I am reciting at the present moment a poem from one of our great writers. The frivolous fact that I am out on the water, being rowed by you and Eileen, that I am wasting some of the precious hours of a golden day, must be counteracted as far as possible. But stay; would you two girls,” here she glanced at Marjorie and Eileen, purposely avoiding both Leslie and Lettie, “would you two like me to recite aloud the poem in question?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, no!” cried Lettie; “that would be quite the last straw.”
“I don’t think,” said Belle glancing in Lettie’s direction, “that the remark of the young person who holds the tiller-ropes ought to be considered. What do you two say?”
“Of course Eileen and I would like it very much,” said Marjorie; “but Leslie is our guest, and we must consult her.”
“She would not appreciate,” said Belle; “but perhaps, as you say, she is your guest. Well, I submit. My disappointment has been deep with regard to Miss Gilroy.”
“Whether you are disappointed in me or not, please try to enlighten me by your recitation,” said Leslie, “for I should enjoy it of all things.”
“I don’t suppose for a single instant you will care for it; but I will do my duty. A word may sink in, a tone may have an effect; there is never any saying. A suitable stanza occurs to me. I am about to quote from the great work of Samuel Daniel, who was born at Taunton, in Somersetshire, in 1562, and died in 1619. His ‘History of the Civil Wars between York and Lancaster,’ in eight books, was first published in 1595. The highest quality of his verse is a quiet, pensive reflection. Now, pray, listen. The poem, a stanza of which I will recite, is called ‘Musophilus.’ It is addressed to ‘Philocoslus,’ a lover of the world. Musophilus is a lover of the Muse. It commences thus——”
“We had better stop rowing,” said Eileen. The girls shipped their oars and bent forward. Belle, with a theatrical gesture, and a flinging up of her right hand, commenced:
“‘Either Truth, Goodness, Virtue are not still
The self-same which they are, and always one,
But alter to the project of our will;
Or we our actions make them wait upon,
Putting them in the livery of our skill,
And cast them off again when we have done.’”
Here Belle raised herself in the boat.