shall grow more, isn't it?"

"I daresay," says the professor vaguely. "But that is not the
question to be considered now. I must beg you to understand,
Perpetua, that your staying here is out of the question!"

"Out of the---- Oh! I _see,"_ cries she, springing to her feet and
turning a passionately reproachful face on his. "You mean that I
shall be in your way here!"

"No, _no_, NO!" cries he, just as impulsively, and decidedly very
foolishly; but the sight of her small mortified face has proved too
much for him, "Only----"

"Only?" echoes the spoiled child, with a loving smile--the child who
has been accustomed to have all things and all people give way to
her during her short life. "Only you are afraid _I_ shall not be
comfortable. But I shall. And I shall be a great comfort to you
too--a great _help._ I shall keep everything in order for you. Do
you remember the talk we had that last day you came to Aunt Jane's?
How I told you of the happy days we should have together, if we
_were_ together. Well, we are together now, aren't we? And when I'm
twenty-one, we'll move into a big, big house, and ask people to
dances and dinners and things. In the meantime----" she pauses and
glances leisurely around her. The glance is very comprehensive.
"To-morrow," says she with decision, "I shall settle this room!"

The professor's breath fails him. He grows pale. To "settle" his
room!