"Where's Sally?" asked John, looking vainly
for the functionary who usually pervaded
that region like a domestic police-woman, a terror
to cats, dogs, and men.

"She has gone to her cousin's funeral, and
won't be back till Monday. There seems to be
a great fatality among her relations; for one dies,
or comes to grief in some way, about once a month.
But I don't blame poor Sally for wanting to get
away from this place now and then. I think I
could find it in my heart to murder an imaginary
friend or two, if I had to stay here long."

And Nan laughed so blithely, it was a pleasure
to hear her.

"Where's Di?" asked John, seized with a
most unmasculine curiosity all at once.

"She is in Germany with 'Wilhelm Meister';
but, though 'lost to sight, to memory clear'; for
I was just thinking, as I did her things, how
clever she is to like all kinds of books that I don't
understand at all, and to write things that make
me cry with pride and delight. Yes, she's a
talented dear, though she hardly knows a needle
from a crowbar, and will make herself one great
blot some of these days, when the 'divine afflatus'
descends upon her, I'm afraid."