in her intelligent mind. Thus they had many talks upon history and the
natural sciences and poetry and painting. But to hear of the famous
statues and learn from pictures to know the styles of the old sculptors
seemed to please her best of all.

By the fifth day, a Friday, Mr. Carlyon began to feel a desire to see
his little pupil again and sent her a message by his dark, silent
servant. Would she not take tea with him that afternoon? So Halcyone
came. She was very quiet and subdued and crept through her gap in the
hedge without any leaps or bounds.

John Derringham was stretched the whole length of his long, lean limbs
under the apple tree--her apple tree! This did not produce a favorable
note.

Cheiron watched the meeting with inward amusement.

"This is my little friend Halcyone La Sarthe," he said. "Halcyone,
yonder Tityus in these latter days is known by the name of John
Derringham--of Derringham in the County of Northampton. Make your bows
to one another."

Halcyone inclined her head with dignity, but Mr. Derringham only raised
himself a little and said "Good afternoon." He did not care for
children, and was busy with his old master discussing other things.

"You will pour out the tea, Halcyone, for us as usual," Cheiron said.
"Demetrius will bring it in a minute." And Halcyone sat down demurely
upon the basket chair near the table and crossed her hands.

"I tell you I will not take their point of view," John Derringham said,
continuing the conversation he had been carrying on before Halcyone
arrived. "Everything in England is spoilt by this pandering to the
mediocrity. A man may not make a speech but he must choose his words so
that uneducated clods can grasp his meaning, he cannot advocate an idea
with success unless it can appeal to the lower middle classes. It is
this subservience to them which has brought us to where we are. No
ideals--no lofty ends--just a means to each one's own hand. I will never
pretend we are all equal, I will never appeal to anything but the
highest in an audience. So they can throw me out if they will!" And he
stretched out his long legs and clasped his hands under his head--so
that to Halcyone he seemed seven foot tall.

"Tityus" she thought was a very apt name for him, and she wondered if he
would jump if the vulture suddenly gave a gnaw at his liver!

"You are an idealist, John," said Mr. Carlyon. "All this might have been
of some use as a principle of propaganda before