now into the mechanism of the Young Girl's audacious
contrivance for regulating our table-talk! Her brain is tired half
the time, and she is too nervous to listen patiently to what a quieter
person would like well enough, or at least would not be annoyed by. It
amused her to invent a scheme for managing the headstrong talkers, and
also let off a certain spirit of mischief which in some of these nervous
girls shows itself in much more questionable forms. How cunning these
half-hysteric young persons are, to be sure! I had to watch a long
time before I detected the telegraphic communication between the two
conspirators. I have no doubt she had sedulously schooled the little
monkey to his business, and found great delight in the task of
instruction.

But now that our Scheherezade has become a scholar instead of a teacher,
she seems to be undergoing a remarkable transformation. Astronomy is
indeed a noble science. It may well kindle the enthusiasm of a youthful
nature. I fancy at times that I see something of that starry light which
I noticed in the young man's eyes gradually kindling in hers. But can it
be astronomy alone that does it? Her color comes and goes more readily
than when the old Master sat next her on the left. It is having this
young man at her side, I suppose. Of course it is. I watch her with
great, I may say tender interest. If he would only fall in love with
her, seize upon her wandering affections and fancies as the Romans
seized the Sabine virgins, lift her out of herself and her listless and
weary drudgeries, stop the outflow of this young life which is draining
itself away in forced literary labor--dear me, dear me--if, if, if--

"If I were God
An' ye were Martin Elginbrod!"

I am afraid all this may never be. I fear that he is too much given to
lonely study, to self-companionship, to all sorts of questionings, to
looking at life as at a solemn show where he is only a spectator. I dare
not build up a romance on what I have yet seen. My reader may, but I
will answer for nothing. I shall wait and see.

The old Master and I have at last made that visit to the Scarabee which
we had so long promised ourselves.

When we knocked at his door he came and opened it, instead of saying,
Come in. He was surprised, I have no doubt, at the sound of our
footsteps; for he rarely has a visitor, except the little monkey of a
boy, and he may have thought a troop of marauders were coming to rob
h