She at length stopped, with a sigh.
“Well, I suppose I must leave it; and they will not allow us to take any of these books away,” she said, regretfully.
“It is beautiful, Meta; but, before we go, just read me a little in French. I should like to hear you.”
Brownie laughed, and glad of any excuse to return to the book, began to read aloud in a spirited, piquant manner.
“Dear, dear, what a chatter! I should certainly take you to be a Frenchwoman yourself,” interrupted Mattie, at length, adding: “It is not half so interesting to me, though, as when you translated it.”
She arose as she spoke, and Brownie, with another wistful look at the entrancing pages, reluctantly laid the book down and followed her example.
They were suddenly arrested, however, by a pleasant voice, saying:
“One moment, if you please, young ladies.”
They stopped and looked around.
An old gentleman was sitting just a little back of where Brownie had sat, and he had been a very attentive listener while she was reading so glibly from the French romance. She had not dreamed of having another listener.