and
Friskarina had crept on to her knee. Here, undoubtedly, was one whom
ignorant people would stigmatize as "blue" or as a "femme savante;" they
would of course be quite wrong and inexpressively foolish to use such
terms, and yet there was, perhaps, something a little incongruous in
the two sides, as it were, of Erica's nature, the keen intellect and the
child-like devotion, the great love of learning and the intense love
of fun and humor. Charles Osmond had only once in all his long years of
experience met with a character which interested him so much.

"After all," he said, when they had talked for some time, "I have never
told you that I came on a begging errand, and I half fear that you will
be too busy to undertake any more work."

Erica's face brightened at the word; was not work what she lived for?

"Oh! I am not too busy for anything!" she exclaimed. "I shall quote
Marcus Aurelius to you if you say I haven't time! What sort of work?"

"Only, when you can, to come to us in the afternoon and read a little to
my mother. Do you think you could? Her eyes are failing, and Brian and I
are hard at work all day; I am afraid she is very dull."

"I should like to come very much," said Erica, really pleased at the
suggestion. "What sort of books would Mrs. Osmond like?"

"Oh, anything! History, travels, science, or even novels, if you are not
above reading them!"

"I? Of course not," said Erica, laughing. "Don't you think we enjoy
them as much as other people? When there is time to read them, at least,
which isn't often."

Charles Osmond laughed.

"Very well then, you have a wide field. From Carlyle to Miss Bird,
and from Ernst Haeckel to Charles Reade. I should make them into a big
sandwich if I were you."

He said goodbye, and left Erica still on the hearth rug, her face
brighter than it had been for months.

"I like that man," she said to herself. "He's honest and thorough, and
good all through. Yet how in the world does he make himself believe in
his creed? Goodness, Christlikeness. He looked so grand, too, as he said
that. It is wonderful what a personal sort of devotion those three have
for their ideal."

She wandered away to recollections of Thekla Sonnenthal, and that
carried her back to the time of their last parting, and the recollection
of her sorrow. All at once the loneliness of the present was borne in
upon her overwhelmingly; she looked around the little room, the Ilkley
couch was pushed away