We've looked it out since in Johnson's Dictionary, for we thought it might be one of Dr.Brown's vulgar errors, but it is not there.
Margery reads a great deal of history; she likes it; she likes all the sensible books in the attic, and I like the rest, particularly poetry and fairy tales.
The books are Mother's books, they belonged to her father.

She liked having them all in the parlour, "littering the whole place," Jael says; but Grandmamma has moved them to the attic now, all but a volume of Sermons for Sunday, and the Oriental Annual, to amuse visitors if they are left alone.

Only she says you never ought to leave your visitors alone.
Jael is very glad the books were taken to the attic, because "they gather dust worse than chimney ornaments;" so she says.
Margery and I are very glad too, for we are sent to play in the attic, and then we read as much as ever we like; and we move our pet books to our own corner and pretend they are our very own.

We have very cosy corners; we pile up some of the big books for seats, and then make a bigger pile in front of us for tables, and there we sit.
Once Dr.Brown found us.

We had got whooping cough, and he had come to see if we were better; and he is very big, and he tramped so heavily on the stairs I did really think he was a burglar; and Margery was a little frightened too, so we were very glad to see him; and when he saw us reading at our tables, he said, "So this is the Attic salt ye season life with, is it ?" And then he laughed just as he always does.
There is one story in my favourite Fairy Book which Margery likes too; it is called "A Puzzling Tale." I read it to Margery when we were sitting in our tree seat in the garden, and I put my hand over the answer to the puzzle, and she could not guess; and if Margery could not guess, I do not think any one else could.
This is the tale:--"Three women were once changed into flowers, and grew in a field; but one was permitted to go home at night.