Henriette had taken to English as a duck takes to water. After a year of continuous practice, she spoke it well; and read or wrote it passably. "Oh, it isn’t a girl’s book, is it?" she said, dubiously, and scanning the title again in the light of Janet’s words. "No, it’s a boy’s book. Boys’ books are the only ones I know about because they were the only ones I used to read. They were much jollier than the girls’ books." "Did your mother let you read boys’ books? My mother wouldn’t." "Nor mine either. But I read them on the sly. That’s what made them so enticing, I suppose." "I can’t imagine that you ever did anything on the sly, Janski," said the child, who still took idioms somewhat too literally. "Oh, can’t you? Then I’m not half such a fool as I look." Henriette laid the book down and went over to make a demonstration of tenderness by way of intimating that she believed Janet to be the best and cleverest person in the whole world. Janet skillfully cut this demonstration short. She believed that a child’s affections, like its disaffections, should be kept well within bounds. "Your enthusiasm for ’Tom, Dick and Harry,’" she said, in her musical voice, "leaves much to be desired. Let me tell you that it is not a book for study, but a book for light reading. If you really mean to make English your ’adopted tongue,’ as you sometimes tell me, you must get used to light reading. The English-speaking nations read very little else." Henriette gave her a look full of adoration. "Oh, I don’t need light reading while I have you. To be with you is like—it’s as exciting as watching the loop-the-loop!" "Look here, Miss, do you imply that I’m a sort of three-ringed circus or professional jumping-jack?" "No. I don’t mean anything horrid and jumpy like that. I mean you are never like other people. That’s why it’s such fun to try and guess what you will do or say next. And I hardly ever guess right." "I see. I’m more like a Christmas stocking, full of surprises." "There, you see what funny things you say! It’s far more absorbing than a hundred books of light reading." "Henriette, you are becoming highly skilled at flattery. It’s a very useful accomplishment. If my absence brings out virtues like this, I think I shall make a point of deserting you for two hours every morning. You will become a paragon, and I shall be famous for my absent teaching." "Oh, no, no, most dearest Jeanette. If need be, I’ll say the most awful things about you. I’ll do anything to keep you." She gave a great sigh. "You don’t know how I worry about losing you. It’s terrible! Why weren’t you my sister or my aunt? Then I’d be sure of keeping you always!" "Don’t be too sure of that, darling. If we were close relations, everybody would expect us to be fond of each other. And this expectation would probably destroy most of the fondness, unless our attraction for each other happened to be overwhelming."