Marion shook her head.
“It’s good,” continued Ben. “But ‘Treasure Island’ is better. They are both on my shelves, farther along. ‘Midshipman Easy’ is fine, too—but perhaps it’s too old for you. Have you read many books?”
“I’ve read three,” she replied. “Dad taught me to read them. He taught Julie and me to read at the same time, and he said we were very clever. He could read as easy as anything.”
“Who is Julie?” he asked.
“She is my mother,” replied the little girl, with averted face. “They taught me to call her Julie when I was a baby and they used to laugh. She—she was ill two years ago—and I haven’t seen her since—because she’s in Heaven.”
Ben’s face grew red with pity and embarrassment; for a minute both were silent. He found his voice first.
“What books have you read?” he asked.
“‘Rob Roy,’ by Sir Walter Scott,” she answered in a tremulous whisper which scarcely reached him. “It was quite a big book, in green covers—and I liked it best of all. And ‘Infantry Training.’ It was a little red book. Julie and I didn’t find it very interesting. The third was ‘The Army List.’ It had dad’s name in it and your father’s too, and hundreds and hundreds of names of other officers of the king.”
“But—you read those—‘Infantry Training’ and ‘The Army List’?”
“Yes—plenty of times.”