"I'm sure I've no objection to hearing it," said Miss Christie, sitting up in her chair.
Elizabeth lifted a blue-covered book from a table, sat down on the rug at her father's feet, and began to read. It was only a very little poem, as she had said—a few exquisite strange lines. When she finished she looked eagerly up at her father and—"Isn't it magical?" she asked.
"Let me see the book," said Mr. Seton, and at once became engrossed.
"It's very nice," said Miss Christie; "but your voice, Elizabeth, makes anything sound beautiful."
"Kirsty, my dear, how pretty of you!"
Elizabeth's hands were clasped round her knees, and she sat staring into the red heart of the fire as she repeated:
"Who said 'All Time's delight
Hath she for narrow bed:
Life's troubled bubble broken'?
That's what I said."
Kirsty, I love that—'Life's troubled bubble broken'."
"Say it to me Lizbeth," said Buff, who had left his book when his sister began to read aloud.
"You wouldn't understand it, sonny."