like a cat. This new method of expressing filial affection seemed to
interest Mr. Gallilee. "Does your head itch, my dear?" he asked. The
idea was new to Zo. She brightened, and looked at her father with a sly
smile. "Why do you do it?" Miss Minerva asked sharply. Zo clouded over
again, and answered, "I don't know." Mr. Gallilee rewarded her with a
kiss, and went away to champagne and the club.

Mr. Le Frank left the schoolroom next. He paid the governess the
compliment of reverting to her narrative of events at the concert.

"I am greatly struck," he said, "by what you told me about Mr. Ovid
Vere. We may, perhaps, have misjudged him in thinking that he doesn't
like music. His coming to my concert suggests a more cheering view. Do
you think there would be any impropriety in my calling to thank him?
Perhaps it would be better if I wrote, and enclosed two tickets for my
friend's concert? To tell you the truth, I've pledged myself to dispose
of a certain number of tickets. My friend is so much in request--it's
expecting too much to ask him to sing for nothing. I think I'll write.
Good-evening!"

Left alone with her pupils, Miss Minerva looked at her watch. "Prepare
your lessons for to-morrow," she said.

The girls produced their books. Maria's library of knowledge was in
perfect order. The pages over which Zo pondered in endless perplexity
were crumpled by weary fingers, and stained by frequent tears. Oh,
fatal knowledge! mercifully forbidden to the first two of our race, who
shall count the crimes and stupidities committed in your name?

Miss Minerva leaned back in her easy-chair. Her mind was occupied by