Marie-Celeste straightened up a little, as though to show she did not quite approve, and then she replied, with an air of childish dignity that was vastly amusing, “Because it was his family motto that helped Leonard (he's the boy in the story I spoke about) ever so much, and that taught him to be cheerful and contented, and it seems to me”—this last very slowly and thoughtfully—“that you are very much like Leonard, only grown up. I suppose, as you're English, you've surely got a family motto.”
“How do you know I'm English?”
“Oh, because papa said, when you were walking on the deck last evening, that 'you were very English indeed.'”
“Well, do you think, on the whole, that your father meant to be complimentary?”
“I do not know exactly, but papa likes almost everything in England, and we have some English relatives whom we are very fond of. They live in Windsor, and we are going to spend the summer with them.”
“In Windsor?” with evident surprise; “and what is their name, may I ask?”
“Harris, the same as ours;” for Marie-Celeste detected nothing unusual in the question.
“So?” and then, as Mr. Belden seemed suddenly to retire into himself and his own thoughts, she made a move to go.
“Oh, don't go yet; seems to me you ought to talk to me a while longer, if only for punishment, as you said.”
“Oh, no, I didn't say quite that,” for the first time appreciating the situation; “but anyhow I shall not bother about it, because you know what I meant.”