en I
get older." A book on the table attracted her by its beautiful binding.
She took it up. Mrs. Gallilee looked at her with compassionate good
humour.

"Science again, my dear," she said facetiously, "inviting you in a
pretty dress! You have taken up the 'Curiosities of Coprolites.' That
book is one of my distinctions--a presentation copy from the author."

"What are Coprolites?" Carmina asked, trying to inform herself on the
subject of her aunt's distinctions.

Still good-humoured, but with an effort that began to appear, Mrs.
Gallilee lowered herself to the level of her niece.

"Coprolites," she explained, "are the fossilised indigestions of extinct
reptiles. The great philosopher who has written that book has discovered
scales, bones, teeth, and shells--the undigested food of those
interesting Saurians. What a man! what a field for investigation! Tell
me about your own reading. What have you found in the library?"

"Very interesting books--at least to me," Carmina answered. "I have
found many volumes of poetry. Do you ever read poetry?"

Mrs. Gallilee laid herself back in her chair, and submitted patiently
to her niece's simplicity. "Poetry?" she repeated, in accents of
resignation. "Oh, good heavens!"

Unlucky Carmina tried a more promising topic. "What beautiful flowers
you have in the drawing-room!" she said.

"Nothing remarkable, my dear. Everybody has flowers in their
drawing-rooms--they are part of the furniture."

"Did you arrange them yourself, aunt?"

Mrs. Gallilee still endured it. "The florist's man," she said, "does all
that. I sometimes dissect flowers, but I never trouble myself to arrange
them. What would be the use of the man if I did?" This view of the
question struck Carmina dumb. Mrs. Gallilee went on. "By-the-by, talking
of flowers reminds one of other superfluities. Have you tried the piano
in your room? Will it do?"

"The tone is quite perfect!" Carmina answered with enthusiasm. "Did
you choose it?" Mrs. Gallilee looked as if she was going to say "Good
Heavens!" again, and perhaps to endure it no longer. Carmina was too
simple to interpret these signs in the right way. Why should her aunt
not choose a piano? "Don't you like music?" she asked.

Mrs. Gallilee made a last effort. "When you see a little more of
society, my child, you will know that one _must_ like music. So again
with pictures--one _must_ go to the Royal Academy Exhibition. So
again--"

Before she could mention an