I dare say they were the poor boy's playthings." The appearance of these relics of wild dissipation, however, had lifted Christie out of her sublime resignation.

"For Heaven's sake, Jessie," she said, "look around and see if there is anything more!" To make sure, they each began to scrimmage; the broken-spirited Christie exhibiting both alacrity and penetration in searching obscure corners.
In the dining-room, behind the dresser, three or four books were discovered: an odd volume of Thackeray, another of Dickens, a memorandum-book or diary.

"This seems to be Latin," said Jessie, fishing out a smaller book.

"I can't read it." "It's just as well you shouldn't," said Christie shortly, whose ideas of a general classical impropriety had been gathered from pages of Lempriere's dictionary.

"Put it back directly." Jessie returned certain odes of one Horatius Flaccus to the corner, and uttered an exclamation.