"Oh!" and Bertha looked a little blank, being a bookworm herself. "But there must be some books you are fond of, Peggy?"
Peggy shook her head despondently. "I don't believe there are," she said. "Oh, of course I like 'Treasure Island,' and 'Robin Hood,' and that kind of thing. But history, and the Waverley Novels—why, Margaret would like to read the Waverley Novels all day; and they put me to sleep in five minutes."
She looked anxiously at her new friend, to see the effect of this dreadful confession; but Bertha only laughed. "Well, I love the Waverleys very much myself," she said; "but I know everybody doesn't care for them. But when you want to read, Peggy, what do you do?"
"But I don't want to read," said Peggy, humbly. "It—it seems such a waste of time; except Coues, of course, and he wouldn't go in my trunk, and Pa is going to send him by express."
"What do you mean?" asked Bertha, puzzled in her turn. "Cows!"
"Yes, the book, you know! Oh, I couldn't live without that."
"Do you mean a herd-book? Of course, you said you lived on a farm. You mean that you study pedigrees and that kind of thing?"
Now it was Peggy's turn to laugh, as she explained that she meant Prof. J. Elliott Coues's admirable book on birds.
"Pa has Samuels," she added, "but I couldn't bring that, because it is out of print, and too valuable. Besides, he isn't so thorough as Coues, don't you know, especially in anatomy and that part. Is there a good class in anatomy here? Of course I shall want to join that."
