“I hope it hasn't strained the cover,” said Marie-Celeste, looking the book over carefully before returning it. “They are a little too fine for steamer use, aren't they?” for it was a volume from the ship's library, and boasted a costly half-calf binding.
“Yes, rather too fine,” attracted and pleased by the child's friendliness; “but you have not done it any harm, I think.”
“There was no use in my being in such a hurry. I think I will make myself sit right down here a few moments for punishment.”
“I would, by all means,” said Mr. Belden, smiling at the inference to be drawn from the remark.
“I was only on my way to our state-room for a book,” Marie-Celeste further explained. “It is called 'The Story of a Short Life.' Did you ever read it?”
“No, but I think I should like it, for I find life rather too stupidly long myself.”
“Why, how is that?” Marie-Celeste exclaimed, as though nothing could possibly have more interest for her, as indeed, for the moment, nothing could.
“Oh, I fancy I cannot exactly make you understand how. I haven't very good health, that's one reason; and too much money, that's another; and not very much faith in human nature, for a third; besides, no one in the world that I care very much for; so you see I am in rather a bad plight.” Marie-Celeste sat and stared at Mr. Belden, and Mr. Belden, all intent, closely watched the effect of this somewhat unusual declaration.
“What is your family motto?” she queried, after a moment's serious reflection.
“Why in Heaven do you ask that?” for Mr. Belden, who was not in the habit of talking to children, was not as wise as he might have been in his choice of words.