"Why should it not speak, if it has a mouth, and walk, if it has feet?" asked Isabella. "What foolish questions you ask!" exclaimed Celia, "of course it has not life." "Oh, life,--that is it!" said Isabella. "Well, what is life?" "Life! why it is what makes us live," answered Celia. "Of course you know what life is." "No, I don't know," said Isabella, "but I have been thinking about it lately, while I have been sewing,--what it is." "But you should not think, you should talk more, Isabella," said Celia. "Mamma and I talk while we are at work, but you are always very silent." "But you think sometimes?" asked Isabella. "Not about such things," replied Celia. "I have to think about my work." "But your father thinks, I suppose, when he comes home and sits in his study alone?" "Oh, he reads when he goes into his study,--he reads books and studies them," said Celia. "Do you know how to read?" asked Isabella. "Do I know how to read!" cried Celia, angrily. "Forgive me," said Isabella, quickly, "but I never saw you reading. I thought perhaps--women are so different here!" She did not finish her sentence, for she saw Celia was really angry. Yet she had no idea of hurting her feelings. She had tried to accommodate herself to her new circumstances. She had observed a great deal, and had never been in the habit of asking questions. Celia was disturbed at having it supposed that she did not know how to read; therefore it must be a very important thing to know how to read, and she determined she must learn. She applied to the Doctor. He was astonished at her entire ignorance, but he was very glad to help her. Isabella gave herself up to her reading, as she had done before to her sewing. The Doctor was now the gainer. All the time he was away, Isabella sat in his study, poring over her books; when he returned, she had a famous lesson to recite to him. Then he began to tell her of books that he was interested in. He made Celia come in, for a history class. It was such a pleasure to him to find Isabella interested in what he could tell her of history! "All this really happened," said Isabella to Celia once,--"these people really lived!" "Yes, but they died," responded Celia, in an indifferent tone,--"and ever so long ago, too!" "But did they die," asked Isabella, "if we can talk about them, and imagine how they looked? They live for us as much as they did then." "That I can't understand," said Celia. "My uncle saw Napoleon when he was in Europe, long ago. But I never saw Napoleon. He is dead and gone to me, just as much as Alexander the Great." "Well, who does live, if Alexander the Great, if Napoleon, and Columbus do not live?" asked Isabella, impatiently. "Why, papa and mamma live," answered Celia, "and you"---- "And the butcher," interrupted Isabella, "because he brings you meat to eat; and Mr. Spool, because he keeps the thread store. Thank you for putting me in, too! Once"----