duly
registered in Miss Minerva's memory.

Arriving at the monkey-house, Teresa appeared in a new character. She
surprised her companions by showing an interest in natural history.

"Are they all monkeys in that big place?" she asked. "I don't know much
about foreign beasts. How do they like it, I wonder?"

This comprehensive inquiry was addressed to the governess, as the most
learned person present. Miss Minerva referred to her elder pupil with
an encouraging smile. "Maria will inform you," she said. "Her studies
in natural history have made her well acquainted with the habits of
monkeys."

Thus authorised to exhibit her learning, even the discreet Maria
actually blushed with pleasure. It was that young lady's most
highly-prized reward to display her knowledge (in imitation of her
governess's method of instruction) for the benefit of unfortunate
persons of the lower rank, whose education had been imperfectly carried
out. The tone of amiable patronage with which she now imparted useful
information to a woman old enough to be her grandmother, would have made
the hands of the bygone generation burn to box her ears.

"The monkeys are kept in large and airy cages," Maria began; "and the
temperature is regulated with the utmost care. I shall be happy to point
out to you the difference between the monkey and the ape. You are
not perhaps aware that the members of the latter family are called
'Simiadae,' and are without tails and cheek-pouches?"

Listening so far in dumb amazement, Teresa checked the flow of
information at tails and cheek-pouches.

"What gibberish is this child talking to me?" she asked. "I want to know
how the monkeys amuse themselves in that large house?"

Maria's perfect training condescended to enlighten even this state of
mind.

"They have ropes to swing on," she answered sweetly; "and visitors feed
them through the wires of the cage. Branches of trees are also placed
for their diversion; reminding many of them no doubt of the vast
tropical forests in which, as we learn from travellers, they pass in
flocks from tree to tree."

Teresa held up her hand as a signal to stop. "A little of You, my young
lady, goes a long way," she said. "Consider how much I can hold, before
you cram me at this rate."

Maria was bewildered, but nor daunted yet. "Pardon me," she pleaded; "I
fear I don't quite understand you."

"Then there are two of us puzzled," the duenna remarked. _"I_ don't
understand _you._ I