id she, "it is very unsociable and stupid for you
to read the paper, and me to eat my breakfast alone. You might
read aloud, if you must read."

Mr. Haye brought his head round from the paper long enough to
swallow half a cupful of coffee.

"Where's Rose?"

"In bed, for aught I know. There is no moving her till she has
a mind."

"'Seems to me, it is quite as difficult to move you," said
her father.

"Ay, but then I _have a mind_ -- which makes all the difference."

Mr. Haye went back to his paper and considered it till the
rest of his cup of coffee was thoroughly cold. Elizabeth
finished her breakfast, and sat, drawn back into herself, with
arms folded, looking into the fireplace. Finding his coffee
cold, Mr. Haye's attention came at length back upon his
daughter.

"What do you want me to talk about?" he said.

"It don't signify, your talking about anything now," said
Elizabeth. "Everything is cold -- mind and matter together. I
don't know how you'll find the coffee, father."

Mr. Haye stirred it, with a discontented look.

"Rose is late," he remarked again.

"_That's_ nothing new," said Elizabeth. "Late is her time."

Mr. Haye drunk his cold cupful.

"You're very fond of her, Lizzie, aren't you?"

"No," said Elizabeth. "I don't think I am."

"Not fond of her!" said Mr. Haye in a very surprised tone.

"No," said Elizabeth, -- "I don't think I am."

"I thought you were," said her father, in a voice that spoke
both chagrin and displeasure.

"What made you think so?"

"You always seemed fond of her," said Mr. Haye.

"I can't have seemed so, for I never was so. There isn't
enough of her to be fond of. I talk to her, and like her after
a fashion, because she is the only person near me that I can
talk to -- that's all."

"_I_ am fond of her," said Mr. Haye.

"It takes more to make me fond of anybody," said his daughter.
"I know _you_ are."

"What does Rose want, to have the honour of your good
opinion?"

"O don't talk in that tone!" said Elizabeth. "I had rather you
would not talk at all. You have chosen an unhappy subject. It
takes a good deal to make me like anybody much, father."

"What does Rose want?"

"As near as possible, everything," said Elizabeth, -- "if you
_will_ have the answer."

"What?"

"Why father, she has nothing in the world but a very pretty
face."

"You grant her that," said Mr. Haye.

"Yes, I grant her that, though it is a great while since _I_ saw
it pretty.