ng up the cord of his dressing-gown,
she pulled it by its tassel.

"Don't!" said Mr. Stone; "it secures my trousers."

Cecilia dropped the cord. 'Father is really terrible!' she thought.

Mr. Stone, lifting the second sheet of paper, began again:

"'The reason, however, was not far to seek---"

Cecilia said desperately:

"It's about that girl who comes to copy for you."

Mr. Stone lowered the sheet of paper, and stood, slightly curved from
head to foot; his ears moved as though he were about to lay them back;
his blue eyes, with little white spots of light alongside the tiny black
pupils, stared at his daughter.

Cecilia thought: 'He's listening now.'

She made haste. "Must you have her here? Can't you do without her?"

"Without whom?" said Mr. Stone.

"Without the girl who comes to copy for you."

"Why?"

"For this very good reason---"

Mr. Stone dropped his eyes, and Cecilia saw that he had moved the sheet
of paper up as far as his waist.

"Does she copy better than any other girl could?" she asked hastily.

"No," said Mr. Stone.

"Then, Father, I do wish, to please me, you'd get someone else. I know
what I'm talking about, and I---" Cecilia stopped; her father's lips and
eyes were moving; he was obviously reading to himself.

'I've no patience with him,' she thought; 'he thinks of nothing but his
wretched book.'

Aware of his daughter's silence, Mr. Stone let the sheet of paper sink,
and waited patiently again.

"What do you want, my dear?" he said.

"Oh, Father, do listen just a minute!"

"Yes, Yes."

"It's about that girl who comes to copy for you. Is there any reason why
she should come instead of any other girl?"

"Yes," said Mr. Stone.

"What reason?"

"Because she has no friends."

So awkward a reply was not expected by Cecilia; she looked at the floor,
forced to search within her soul. Silence lasted several seconds; then
Mr. Stone's voice rose above a whisper:

"'The reason was not far to seek. Man, differentiated from the other
apes by his desire to know, was from the first obliged to steel himself
against the penalties of knowledge. Like animals subjected to the
rigours of an Arctic climate, and putting forth more fur with
each reduction in the temperature, man's hide of courage thickened
automatically to resist the spear-thrusts dealt him by his own insatiate
curiosity. In those days of which we speak, when undigested knowledge,
in a great invading horde, had swarmed a