aside the newspaper.

The plan of going to a concert being thus abandoned, the idea occurred
to them of seeing pictures. Teresa, in search of information, tried her
luck at a great table in the middle of the room, on which useful books
were liberally displayed. She returned with a catalogue of the Royal
Academy Exhibition (which someone had left on the table), and with the
most universally well-informed book, on a small scale, that has ever
enlightened humanity--modestly described on the title-page as an
Almanac.

Carmina opened the catalogue at the first page, and discovered a list
of Royal Academicians. Were all these gentlemen celebrated painters?
Out of nearly forty names, three only had made themselves generally
known beyond the limits of England. She turned to the last page. The
works of art on show numbered more than fifteen hundred. Teresa,
looking over her shoulder, made the same discovery. "Our heads will
ache, and our feet will ache," she remarked, "before we get out of that
place." Carmina laid aside the catalogue.

Teresa opened the Almanac at hazard, and hit on the page devoted to
Amusements. Her next discovery led her to the section inscribed
"Museums." She scored an approving mark at that place with her
thumbnail--and read the list in fluent broken English.

The British Museum? Teresa's memory of that magnificent building
recalled it vividly in one respect. She shook her head. "More headache
and footache, there!" Bethnal Green; Indian Museum; College of
Surgeons; Practical Geology; South Kensington; Patent Museum--all
unknown to Teresa. "The saints preserve us! what headaches and