Miss Thompson left the room and returned to the schoolroom. Christian was busily engaged pulling out her favorite books from their places in the bookcase and examining them. She knew that she and Rosy could only take one or two books away with them, and she was undecided whether to select her new and beautiful edition of the Arabian Nights or a battered old Shakespeare. She was extremely fond of Shakespeare, but on the whole she felt inclined to take the Arabian Nights.
"They will suit Rosy," she said to herself. "I don't believe Rosy has read any of them—or at least hardly any; and Rosy is too young and too ignorant for Shakespeare. Yes, I think I will select——"
"What in the world are you doing, Christian?" said Miss Thompson as she entered the room.
"Pulling my books about."
"Then put them all back on the shelf at once, dear."
"I was only wondering," said Christian. "There's more reading in the Arabian Nights, I think it will do. Do you mind my putting a little bit of blue ribbon in my copy of the Arabian Nights, Miss Thompson?"
"But why, dear—why?"
"I shall recognize it then at once. Now I suppose we have got to do horrid lessons."
"It's a very strange thing to me, Christian, that such an intelligent girl as you should dislike lessons. I should have imagined that you would love your history and your literature."
"I like Spanish history best," said Christian; "it is the most bloodthirsty."