me it
is, I fear, useless for me to set myself up as a discreet person in
emergencies. Another woman might have controlled herself. I burst into
fits of laughter. Freddy and the girls joined me. For the time, it
was plainly useless to pursue the business of education. I shut up
Shakespeare, and allowed--no, let me tell the truth, encouraged--the
children to talk about Mr. Sax.

They only seemed to know what Mr. Sax himself had told them. His father
and mother and brothers and sisters had all died in course of time.
He was the sixth and last of the children, and he had been christened
"Sextus" in consequence, which is Latin (here Freddy interposed) for
sixth. Also christened "Cyril" (here the girls recovered the lead) by
his mother's request; "Sextus" being such a hideous name. And which
of his Christian names does he use? You wouldn't ask if you knew him!
"Sextus," of course, because it is the ugliest. Sextus Sax? Not the
romantic sort of name that one likes, when one is a woman. But I have
no right to be particular. My own name (is it possible that I have not
mentioned it in these pages yet?) is only Nancy Morris. Do not despise
me--and let us return to Mr. Sax.

Is he married? The eldest girl thought not. She had heard mamma say to a
lady, "An old German family, my dear, and, in spite of his oddities, an
excellent man; but so poor--barely enough to live on--and blurts out the
truth, if people ask his opinion, as if he had twenty thousand a year!"
"Your mamma knows him well, of course?" "I should think so, and so do
we. He often comes here. They say he's not good company among grown-up
people. _We_ think him jolly. He understands dolls, and he's the best
back at leap-frog in the whole of England." Thus far we had advanced in
the praise of Sextus Sax, when one of the maids came in with a note
for me. She smiled mysteriously, and said, "I'm to wait for an answer,
miss."

I opened the note, and read these lines:--

"I am so ashamed of myself, I daren't attempt to make my apologies
personally. Will you accept my written excuses? Upon my honor, nobody
told me when I got here yesterday that you were in the house. I heard
the recitation, and--can you excuse my stupidity?--I thought it was
a stage-struck housemaid amusing herself with the children. May I
accompany you when you go out with the young ones for your daily walk?
One word will do. Yes or no. Penitently yours--S. S."

In my position, there was but one possible