"I dare say you are right, Miss Juliet," said the old maid, sarcastically. "The rhymes of young ladies are seldom worth reading. You had better mend your stockings, and mind your embroidery, than waste your time in such useless trash."
"It does not take up much of my time, aunt."
"How do you make it up out of your little head, Julee?" said the Captain. "Come and sit upon my knee, and tell the father all about it. I am sure I could sooner board a French man-of-war than tack two rhymes together."
"I don't know, papa," said Juliet, laughing, and accepting the proffered seat. "It comes into my head when it likes, and passes through my brain with the rapidity of lightning. I find it without seeking, and often, when I seek it, I cannot find it. The thing is a great mystery to myself; but the possession of it makes me very happy."
"Weak minds, I have often been told, are amused by trifles," sneered Aunt Dorothy.
"Then I must be very weak, aunt, for I am easily amused. Dear papa, give me that paper."
"I must read it."
"'Tis silly stuff."
"Let me be the best judge of that. Perhaps it contains something that I ought not to see?"
"Perhaps it does. Oh, no," she whispered in his ear; "but Aunt Dorothy will sneer so at it."