"_May_ I have real lace?" cried Geraldine--"Oh, I _beg_ your pardon,
Colonel Mallett, for interrupting, but I was perfectly crazy to know
what you were going to say."

Other people have been crazier and endured more to learn what hope the
verdict of ponderous authority might hold for them.

Colonel Mallett, a trifle ruffled at the interruption, swallowed several
times and then continued without haste to rid himself of a weighty
opinion concerning the début and the petticoats of the Half Moon's ward.
He might have made the child happy in one word. It took him twenty
minutes.

Concurring opinions were then solemnly delivered by every director in
turn except Mr. Tappan, who spoke for half an hour, doggedly dissenting
on every point.

But the days of the old régime were evidently numbered. He understood
it. He looked across at the crackled portrait of his old friend Anthony
Seagrave; the faded, painted features were obliterated in a bar of
slanting sunlight.

So, concluding his dissenting opinion, and having done his duty, he sat
down, drawing the skirts of his frock-coat close around his bony thighs.
He had done his best; his reward was this child's hatred--which she
already forgot in the confused delight of her sudden liberation.

Dazed with happiness, to one after another Geraldine courtesied and
extended the narrow childlike hand of amity--even to him. Then, as