"He hates music," the governess interposed.

"I mean Mr. Null," Mr. Le Frank persisted.

_"I_ mean--" Miss Minerva paused (like the cat with the mouse
again!)--_"I_ mean, Mr. Ovid Vere."

What form the music-master's astonishment might have assumed may be
matter for speculation, it was never destined to become matter of fact.
At the moment when Miss Minerva overwhelmed him with the climax of her
story, a little, rosy, elderly gentleman, with a round face, a sweet
smile, and a curly gray head, walked into the room, accompanied by two
girls. Persons of small importance--only Mr. Gallilee and his
daughters.

"How d'ye-do, Mr. Le Frank. I hope you got plenty of money by the
concert. I gave away my own two tickets. You will excuse me, I'm sure.
Music, I can't think why, always sends me to sleep. Here are your two
pupils, Miss Minerva, safe and sound. It struck me we were rather in
the way, when that sweet young creature was brought home. Sadly in want
of quiet, poor thing--not in want of _us._ Mrs. Gallilee and Ovid, so
clever and attentive, were just the right people in the right place. So
I put on my hat--I'm always available, Mr. Le Frank; I have the great
advantage of never having anything to do--and I said to the girls,
'Let's have a walk.' We had no particular place to go to--that's
another advantage of mine--so we drifted about. I didn't mean it, but,
somehow or other, we stopped at a pastry-cook's shop. What was the name
of the pastry-cook?"

So far Mr. Gallilee proceeded, speaking in the oddest