"but the
truth is that no one knows what has become of his wife. She may be
alive, and she may be dead. Do you want me to find out?"

"I am dying to know," said Catherine; "but I will make him tell me all
about it one of these days."

"Never!" replied Strong. "He lives only in his art since the collapse of
his marriage. He eats and drinks paint."

"Does he really paint so very well?" asked Catherine thoughtfully. "Is
he a great genius?"

"Young woman, we are all of us great geniuses. We never say so, because
we are as modest as we are great, but just look into my book on fossil
batrachians."

"I don't feel the least interest in you or your batrachiums; but I adore
Mr. Wharton."

"What is the good of your adoring Wharton?" asked the professor.
"Short's very good as far as he goes, but the real friend is Codlin, not
Short."

"I shall hate you if you always make fun of me. What do you mean by your
Codlins and Shorts?"

"Did you never read Dickens?" cried Strong.

"I never read a novel in my life, if that is what you are talking
about," answered Catherine.

"Ho! Cousin Esther! The Sioux don't read Dickens. You should join the
tribe."

"I always told you that sensible people never read," said Esther, hard
at work on her painting. "Do you suppose St. Cecilia ever read Dickens
or would have liked him if she had?"

"Perhaps not," said Strong. "I take very little stock in saints, and she
strikes me as a little of a humbug, your Cecilia; but I would like to
know what the effect of the 'Old Curiosity Shop' would be on a
full-blooded Indian squaw. Catherine, will you try to read it if I bring
you a copy here?"

"May I?" asked Catherine. "You know I was taught to believe that novels
are sinful."

Strong stared at her a moment with surprise that any new trait in her
could surprise him, and then went on solemnly: "Angel, you are many
points too good for this wicked city. If you remain here unperverted,
you will injure our trade. I must see to it that your moral tone is
lowered. Will you read a novel of this person named Dickens if Mr.
Hazard will permit you to do so in his church?"

"If Mr. Hazard says I must, I shall do so with pleasure," replied
Catherine with her best company manners; and the Reverend Mr. Hazard,
having been taken into Esther's confidence on the subject, decided,
after reflection, that Miss Brooke's moral nature would not be hurt by
reading Dickens under such circumstances; so the next day Cat