u will ever learn to make soup?"

The girl nodded many times.

"Perine eat it," she said.

"Listen to her!" Marie exclaimed, patting her cheek approvingly. "And
that any one should say she has no sense! She knows as well as any of
us, that the great thing in soup is to eat it with an appetite, and so
she puts together two and two--"

She was interrupted by the girl.

"Four!" she said abruptly.

Madame Didier, instead of showing astonishment, began to laugh.

"There she is with her numbers again! How strange it is that she should
never forget a number or make a mistake in a sum! In taking away or
adding together one can't puzzle her. I don't mean that I can't," she
continued, apparently addressing no one in particular, "because I am a
poor ignorant woman; but wiser people than I. Now, Perine, you shall
have your lesson. See here, I shall stand near my bed, and you over
there with your face to the wall. Do you understand?"

The girl nodded, and stumbling along towards the place indicated,
contrived on her way to knock down and break into atoms a white dish.

"Oh, the unfortunate child!" cried Marie, darting forward. "Another! and
it was my last! How many more things will you destroy!"

At this reproach the guilt-stricken Perine covered her face and howled
aloud, and Madame Didier's momentary anger passed.

"There, don't cry!" she said, "crying does no good, and it was an
accident. You'll be more careful another time, won't you? Try to move
gently, and look where you go, or some day you will hurt yourself. At
present let me see you stand well against the wall, so! I put on the
soup--and we are ready."

As she said these words she went back to the alcove. And then a strange
thing happened. For from behind the gaily-figured chintz, there issued a
strange hoarse whisper, which caused so little astonishment to Madame
Didier, that she merely echoed the words aloud. Apparently this was
Perine's lesson.

"Seven six nine, and eight five four," repeated Madame Didier.

The answer from the girl came instantaneously:

"Sixteen hundred and twenty-three."

Her teacher paused for a moment, perhaps to allow the whisperer time for
objection, if there were one to make, but as nothing came she said
cheerfully:

"Good! Now let me think of another."

"Nine ought three, and fifteen nine seven," prompted the hidden voice.

"Ah, here is a fine one! Nine ought--" she hesitated, "fifteen--"

The voice corrected her impatie