ad prompted him. For
thousands of years Malvina had led--at all events so far as was
known--a reformed and blameless existence; had subdued and put behind
her that fatal passion of hers for change: in other people. What
madness to have revived it! And no Queen Harbundia handy now to keep
her in check. The Professor had a distinct sensation, while peeling a
pear, that he was being turned into a guinea-pig--a curious feeling of
shrinking about the legs. So vivid was the impression, that
involuntarily the Professor jumped off his chair and ran to look at
himself in the mirror over the sideboard. He was not fully relieved
even then. It may have been the mirror. It was very old; one of those
things with little gilt balls all round it; and it looked to the
Professor as if his nose was growing straight out of his face.
Malvina, trusting he had not been taken suddenly ill, asked if there
was anything she could do for him. He seems to have earnestly begged
her not to think of it.

The Professor had taught Malvina cribbage, and usually of an evening
they played a hand or two. But to-night the Professor was not in the
mood, and Malvina had contented herself with a book. She was
particularly fond of the old chroniclers. The Professor had an entire
shelf of them, many in the original French. Making believe to be
reading himself, he heard Malvina break into a cheerful laugh, and went
and looked over her shoulder. She was reading the history of her own
encounter with the proprietor of tin mines, an elderly gentleman
disliking late hours, whom she had turned into a nightingale. It
occurred to the Professor that prior to the Arlington case the
recalling of this incident would have brought to her shame and remorse.
Now she seemed to think it funny.

"A silly trick," commented the Professor. He spoke quite heatedly. "No
one has any right to go about changing people. Muddling up things they
don't understand. No right whatever."

Malvina looked up. She gave a little sigh.

"Not for one's own pleasure or revenge," she made answer. Her tone was
filled with meekness. It had a touch of self-reproach. "That is very
wrong, of course. But changing them for their own good--at least, not
changing, improving."

"Little hypocrite!" muttered the Professor to himself. "She's got back
a taste for her old tricks, and Lord knows now where she'll stop."

The Professor spent the rest of the evening among his indexes in search