"What nonsense you talk, Clio!" returned Evelyn, whose heightened
color betrayed the insincerity of her speech.

Urania Lister, "the Fifth Muse," as Fred. Verne had dubbed her, now
entered from the conservatory, and throwing aside a scarlet wrap,
also joined in the conversation. She was a slight creature, with
some pretension to good looks; but there was a sort of languor in
her manner that disappointed one ere she had uttered half a dozen
sentences. In order to sustain the character her name suggested, she
was continually soaring into immensity of space and deducing
celestial problems for the uninitiated _habitant_ of this lower
sphere. It was when Urania had taken one of her upper flights into
empyrean air that the fond mother would exclaim: "If Galileo were
alive to-day I believe he could get ideas from my dear Urania."

But to return to the drawing-room.

The children have been dismissed to their homes, and Charlie
consigned to the limits of his own apartments. A slight bustle is
heard in the hall, and presently two visitors are duly announced by
a servant in waiting. A smile of satisfaction beamed on the
countenance of the anxious Mrs. Lister as she eyed the two young
gentlemen on their being introduced to her three daughters, and in
less time than it would be possible to conceive, she was
consummating two brilliant matches for the ancient-looking Clio and
the celestial Urania.

Be it said for this lady's benefit, and by way of explanation, she
had consigned three of the muses to "dear papa," and kept the three