"If you should be inclined," the letter went on, "to play
the good Samaritan, dear Elizabeth, I am positive you would
find Minora a bright, intelligent companion--"

"Minora?" questioned the Man of Wrath.

The April baby, who has had a nursery governess of an altogether
alarmingly zealous type attached to her person for the last six weeks,
looked up from her bread and milk.

"It sounds like islands," she remarked pensively.

The governess coughed.

"Majora, Minora, Alderney, and Sark," explained her pupil.

I looked at her severely.

"If you are not careful, April," I said, "you'll be a genius
when you grow up and disgrace your parents."

Miss Jones looked as though she did not like Germans.
I am afraid she despises us because she thinks we are foreigners--
an attitude of mind quite British and wholly to her credit; but we,
on the other hand, regard her as a foreigner, which, of course,
makes things complicated.

"Shall I really have to have this strange girl?"
I asked, addressing nobody in particular and not expecting a reply.