"Is the reading as good as your telling of the stories, Ellen?"
"Oh, so much nicer. There are beautiful things I could never say; listen," and she read me a passage from "Romeo and Juliet." "Isn't that like music? The very words have a tune to them without thinking of the meaning even."
"Could you lend me the book to read while you are here, Ellen? or to-morrow, if you will, we'll come up here and you shall read aloud to me."
"But your mother and father might find out, and tell Aunt Martha."
"We need not conceal our reading from them; they will make no objection if I tell them the book is harmless—and I suppose it is, even for girls. I know it is a famous book and counted among the English classics. I've always meant to read it some day."
"And I'll lend you the other volumes, one by one, if you'll take me bear hunting the next time you find a track," added Ellen.
"That's a bargain, if my mother will let you go. How old are you, Ellen?"
"I shall be sixteen my next birthday."
"And when is that?"
"Next November."