like Aunt Euphemia are wedded to a manner of thought, gained from their
own school experiences, that went out of fashion inside the colleges
thirty years ago.

Originally, in Lou Grayling's case, when she first lived with Aunt
Euphemia and was a day pupil at an exclusive preparatory school, it had
been drilled into her by the lady that "children should be seen but not
heard!" Later, although she acknowledged the fact that young girls were
now taught many things that in Aunt Euphemia's maidenhood were scarcely
whispered within hearing of "the young person," the lady was quite
shocked to hear such subjects discussed in the drawing-room, with her
niece as one of the discussers.

The structure of man and the lower animals, down to the number of their
ribs, seemed no proper topic for light talk at an evening party. It made
Aunt Euphemia gasp. Anatomy was Lou's hobby. She was an excellent and
practical taxidermist, thanks to her father. And she had learned to name
the bones of the human frame along with her multiplication table.

However, there was little about Louise Grayling to commend her among, for
instance, the erudite of Boston. She was sweet and wholesome, as has
been indicated. She had all the common sense that a pretty girl should
have--and no more.

For she was pretty and, as well, owned that charm of intelligence without
which a woman is a mere doll. Her father often reflected that the man
who married Lou would be playing in great luck. He would get a _mate_.

So far as Professor Grayling knew, however (and he was as keenly
observant of his daughter and her development as he was of scientific