"I had a very good supper there," said Rosalind. "I don't see why everybody should think it was so very funny in me to go."
"No one else would have done it, that's all."
When they looked in at the door of the magician's shop, he was busy with some scraps of leather. Around him were bottomless chairs, topless tables, and melancholy sofas with sagging springs exposed to view, and in one corner a tall, empty clock-case. With his spectacles on the tip of his nose and a pair of large shears in his hand, Morgan might have sat for the picture of some wonder-working genius. Looking up, he discovered his visitors, and a smile illumined his rugged face, as he waved them a welcome with the big shears. He was never too busy for company.
"Come in, come in," he said; and jumping up he got out a feather duster and whisked off a chair for Rosalind, remarking that dust didn't hurt boys.
Rosalind laid the book on the table among the scraps of leather, open at the page where Maurice had written the name of the society and the motto. Pointing to it, they explained that they wished him to join.
Adjusting his spectacles, the magician carefully read the constitution.
"The Secret of the Forest? What's that?" he asked.
Rosalind pointed to the motto, whereupon he nodded approvingly, and went on. "Search for the ring—" he looked up questioningly; but when it was explained, he shook his head. "Stolen," he said.
Reciprocity seemed to amuse him greatly. He repeated it several times, glancing from one to the other of his visitors.
"Do you suppose he knows what it means?" Maurice asked Rosalind.