“Were you Clary’s hymn-book?” said Carl.
“No, I was the other one—that belonged to little Eunice. But years after that, several of us met in an old auction-room,—there I learned some of the particulars that I have told you.”
“What is an auction-room?” said Carl.
“It is a sort of intelligence-office for books,” replied the “Collection.” “There I got the situation of companion to a lady, and went on a long sea voyage. I had nothing to do but to comfort her, however.”
“And did you do it?” said Carl.
“Yes, very often,” said the hymn book. “Perhaps as much as anything else except her Bible.”
“Now, my pretty little boat,” said Carl the next day, “you shall tell me your story. I will hear you before that ugly old stocking.”
Carl was lying flat on his back on the floor, holding the boat up at arm’s length over his head, looking at it, and turning it about. It was a very complete little boat.