Manchurian Books

Cream or lemon, Leila dear?"
"Both," Sis said in an absent manner, with her eyes on me.
"Barbara, come into the den a moment. I want to show you
mother's Xmas gift."
She stocked in ahead of me, and lifted a book from the
table. Under it was the photograph.
"You wretched child!" she said. "Where did you get that?"
"That's not your affair, is it?"
"I'm going to make it my affair. Did he give it to you?"
"Have you read what's written on it?"
"Where did you meet him?"
I hesitated because I am by nature truthfull. But at last
I said:
"At school."
"Oh," she said slowly. "So you met him at school! What was
he doing there? Teaching elocution?"
"Elocution!"
"This is Harold, is it?"
"Certainly." Well, he _was_ Harold, if I chose to call him
that, wasn't he? Sis gave a little sigh.
"You're quite hopeless, Bab. And, although I'm perfectly
sure you want me to take the thing to mother, I'll do nothing of
the sort."
_She flung it into the fire_. I was raging. It had cost me
a dollar. It was quite brown when I got it out, and a corner was
burned off.


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