SOME TRIALS OF GENIUS.

"The sum of the angles of a triangle is equal to two right angles."
Migwan drew the construction lines as indicated in the book and labored
valiantly to understand why the Angle A was equal to its alternate, DBA,
her brow puckered into a studious frown. Geometry was not her long suit,
her talents running to literature and languages. Outside the October sun
was shining on the crimson and yellow maples, making the long street a
scene of dazzling splendor. The carpet of dry leaves on the walk and
sidewalk tantalized Migwan with their crisp dryness; she longed to be
out swishing and crackling through them. She sighed and stirred
impatiently in her chair, wishing heartily that Euclid had died in his
cradle.

"I can't study with all this noise going on!" she groaned, flinging her
pencil and compass down in despair. Indeed, it would have taken a much
more keenly interested person than Migwan to have concentrated on a
geometry lesson just then. From somewhere upstairs there came an
ear-splitting din. It sounded like an earthquake in a tin shop, mingled
with the noise of the sky falling on a glass roof, and accompanied by
the tramping of an army; a noise such as could only have been produced
by an extremely large elephant or an extremely small boy amusing himself
indoors. Migwan rose resolutely and mounted the stairs to the room
overhead, where her twelve-year-old brother and two of his bosom friends
were holding forth. "Tom," she said appealingly, "wouldn't you and the
boys just as soon play outdoors or in somebody else's house? I simply
can't study with all that noise going on."