"They are less important," answered the Academic Lion. "Besides we
expect soon to establish a cranial, neurological, and psychopathic
examination which will determine the subliminal, temperamental
needs of every applicant. Then we classify the readers in groups,
and the books in lists, and the whole thing works with automatic
precision."

"And I am going to make the book-lists!" said the Magazine Lion,
ecstatically wagging his tail, and half-unconsciously putting his
paw around the lady's waist in a spirit of pure comradeship.

But she gently slipped away, stood up, and gracefully covered a
yawn with her hand.

"I am ever so much obliged to you Literary Lions for not eating
me," said she. "Probably I should have disagreed with you even
more than your conversation has with me. I am quite sleepy. And
the moon has almost disappeared. I must be going where I can bid
it good night."

So Diana rose, with shining limbs, above the housetops, and
vanished toward her Garden Tower. The Lions looked disconcerted.
"Old-fashioned, Victorian prude!" said one, "Brazen hussy!" said
the other. And they climbed back on their Pedestals, resuming their
supercilious expression. There I suppose they will stay, no matter
what Diana may think of them.