d some seconds before she answered.

"It was I who was wrong," she said, presently. "Let us be friends. It is
not that I do not like you,--really I believe it is not that. It is
that, somehow, you do manage to--to tease me, I suppose." She blushed.
"I am sure you do not mean it. It is very foolish of me, I know."

"If you could only tell me exactly where my fault lies," said Cutter,
earnestly, "I am sure I would never commit it again. You do not
seriously believe that I ever intend to annoy you?"

"N--no," hesitated Hermione. "No, you do not intend to annoy me, and yet
I think it amuses you sometimes to see that I am angry about nothing."

"It does not amuse me," said Cutter. "My tongue gets the better of me,
and then I am very sorry afterwards. Let us be friends, as you say. We
have more serious things to think of than quarreling in our
conversation. Say you forgive me, as freely as I say that it has been my
fault."

There was something so natural and humble in the way the man spoke that
Hermione had no choice but to put out her hand and agree to the truce.
Professor Cutter was as old as her father, though he looked ten years
younger, or more; he had a world-wide reputation in more than one branch
of science; he was altogether what is called a celebrated man; and he
stood before her asking to "make friends," as simply as a schoolboy.
Hermione had no choice.

"Of course," she answered, and then added with a smile, "only you must
really not tease me any more."

"I won't," said Cutter, emphatically.

They sat down again, side by side, and were silent for some moments. It
seemed to Hermione as though she had made an important compact, and she
did not feel altogether certain of the result. She could have laughed at
the idea that her making up her differences with the professor was of
any real importance in her life, but nevertheless she felt that it was
so, and she was inclined to think over what she had done. Her hands lay
folded upon her lap, and she idly gazed at them, and thought how small
and white they looked upon the dark blue serge. Cutter spoke first.

"I suppose," he began, "that when we are not concerned with our own
immediate affairs, we are all of us thinking of the same thing. Indeed,
though we live very much as though nothing were the matter, we are
constantly aware that one subject occupies us all alike."

To tell the truth, Hermione was not at that moment thinking of poor
Madame Patoff. She raise