"Yes, and scissors, and a good-sized spool of cotton; it will do nicely to take to the sewing society, mother dear."
"And here is a box which I thought of giving to father," returned George, "only he never takes snuff," producing a beautiful amber snuff-box, mounted and lined with gold.
"Exquisite! he could keep postage-stamps in it," suggested Isabel.
"That would do very well for you girls, who only write three or four letters a week; I have something else that will please father much better." And he brought from his trunk a dagger of fine metal, curiously wrought in arabesque, the massive handle also richly carved and inlaid. While her mother was admiring the workmanship of the dangerous little weapon, Bell took up, one after another, the books upon the table, most of them old acquaintances, travelling companions, taken from home and brought home again. As she listened to the story of the pipe, mamma observed in Isabel's hand a little, well-thumbed book which attracted her attention.
"What book is that, dear?" she asked, as the story ended.
"A prayer-book," said Isabel.
"An Episcopal prayer-book?"
"No," said George, "a Catholic."
"What do you have that for?" said Mrs. Hartland, with a mingled expression of surprise, contempt, and indignation.