Zoe (known to her father, by vulgar abbreviation, as "Zo") took Mr.
Gallilee's stumpy red hand, and held hard by it as if that was the one
way in which a dull child could rouse herself, with a prospect of
success.

"I've had so many of them," she said; "I don't know. Ask Maria."

Maria responded with the sweetest readiness. "Dear Zoe, you are so
slow! Cheesecakes."

Mr. Gallilee patted Zoe's head as encouragingly as if she had
discovered the right answer by herself. "That's right--ices and
cheese-cakes," he said. "We tried cream-ice, and then we tried
water-ice. The children, Miss Minerva, preferred the cream-ice. And, do
you know, I'm of their opinion. There's something in a cream-ice--what
do you think yourself of cream-ices, Mr. Le Frank?"

It was one among the many weaknesses of Mr. Gallilee's character to be
incapable of opening his lips without, sooner or later, taking somebody
into his confidence. In the merest trifles, he instinctively invited
sympathy and agreement from any person within his reach--from a total
stranger quite as readily as from an intimate friend. Mr. Le Frank,
representing the present Court of Social Appeal, attempted to deliver
judgment on the question of ices, and was interrupted without ceremony
by Miss Minerva. She, too, had been waiting her opportunity to speak,
and she now took it--not amiably.

"With all possible respect, Mr. Gallilee, I venture to entreat that you
will be a little more thoughtful, where the children are concerned. I