ed on very large subjects, and gave readings from very
serious authors; Mr. Yabsley believed in the glorious destinies of the
human race, especially of that branch of it known as Anglo-Saxon.

"He is an elderly gentleman?" asked Constance, with a half-smile of
mischief.

"Old! Oh dear, no! Mr. Yabsley is only about thirty--not quite that, I
think."

And May suddenly turned to talk of Browning, whom she felt it a
"positive duty" to know from end to end. Had Miss Bride really mastered
"Sordello?"

"I never tried to," Constance answered. "Why should I worry about
unintelligible stuff that would give me no pleasure even if I could
understand it?"

"Oh! Oh! _Don't_ speak like that!" cried the other, distressfully. "I'm
sure you don't mean it!"

"I care very little for poetry of any kind," said Constance, in all
sincerity.

"Oh, how I grieve to hear that!--But then, of course we all have our
special interests. Yours is science, I know. I've worked a good deal at
science; of course one can't possibly neglect it; it's a simple duty to
make oneself as many-sided as possible, don't you think? Just now, I'm
giving half an hour before breakfast every day to Huxley's book on the
Crayfish. Mr. Yabsley suggested it to me. Not long ago he was in
correspondence with Huxley about something--I don't quite know what but
he takes a great interest in Evolution. Of course you know that volume
on the Crayfish?"

"I'm afraid I don't. You arrange your day, I see, very methodically."

"Oh, without method _nothing_ can be done. Of course I have a
time-table. I try to put in a great many things, but I'm sure it's no
use sitting down to any study for less than half an hour--do you think
so? At present I can only give half an hour to Herbert Spencer--I think
I shall have to cut out my folk-lore to make more time for him. Yet
folk-lore is so fascinating! Of course you delight in it?"

"I never had time for it at all," replied Constance.

"Just now I'm quite excited about ghost-worship. Mr. Yabsley doesn't
think it is sufficient to explain the origin of religious ideas."

"Mr. Yabsley," remarked Constance, "has pronounced opinions on most
things?"

"Oh, he is very wide, indeed. Very wide, and very thorough. There's no
end to the examinations he has passed. He's thinking of taking the D.
Litt at London; it's awfully stiff, you know."

When they parted, about eleven o'clock, Miss Tomalin went upstairs
humming a passage from a Beethoven