alified to sell a book to his daughter! So to Bumpus I must go, and
I love it. A bookshop is a joy to me; the feel of books, the smell of
books, the look of books, I love! I even enjoy cutting the pages of a
book, which I believe every one does not enjoy.

Then there is another country cousin, Pauline. When her letter comes,
I open it with mixed feelings, in which the feeling of fondness
predominates. One can't help loving her. She never asks one to shop for
her, but with her, which is perhaps an even greater test of friendship.
On a particularly hot day, I remember, a letter came from Pauline which
announced her immediate arrival. I was, waiting in the hall for her,
ready to start, which is a stipulation she always makes, as she says
it is such a pity to waste time. She greeted me in the same rather
tempestuous manner that I am accustomed to at the hands of Betty and
Hugh, and then she ran down the steps again to tell the cabman that he
had a very nice horse, which she patted, and said, "Whoa, mare!"
She always does that. She then asked the cabman how long he had been
driving, whether it was difficult to drive at night, and whether it was
true he could only see his horse's ears; and I think she asked if he had
any children, but of that I am not quite sure. If she didn't, it was a
lapse of memory on her part. Even the cab-runner interested her. Hadn't
I noticed what a sad face he had?

I said I hadn't noticed anything except that he was rather dirty.
Pauline said, "Of course he is dirty; what would you be, if you ran
after cabs all day?" I wondered.

Talking of cab-runners, I told her of the children's party I went to
with Cousin Penelope, who, very much afraid that she was late, said in
her sweetest manner to a man who opened the cab-door for us, "Are we
late?" And the man answered, "I really cannot say, madam; I have only
just this moment arrived myself."

He was in rags, which I did not tell her; the sponge cake would have
stuck in her throat at tea if I had. But I gave him something for his
ready wit, and wished for weeks afterwards that I had plunged into the
darkness after him. "What a charming man!" said Cousin Penelope. But to
return to Pauline.

"What a glorious day we are going to have!" she said. "It is good of you
to say I may stay the night, and if I go to a ball, you won't mind? I
have brought a small box,--as you see."

I did see, and to my mind its size bordered on indecency. I like a box
to look