as occupying itself, and
I have at last come to the decision that you, my child, are the only one
of my young people who has been blessed with a classical brow. As yet you
have not even begun to learn the language of the ancients; but now that
you have reached the mature age of fourteen, I shall be pleased to
instruct you myself for one hour daily, in both that Latin and Greek
which delighted our forefathers."

"But the Romans and Greeks were not our forefathers," said Miss Tredgold.

She snapped out the words quite angrily, and the look on her aunt's face
caused Pauline to go closer to her father and take one of his long white
hands and hold it close to her heart.

"It doesn't matter whether we are descended from them or not, does it,
Padre?" she said.

"All that is noble in thought, all that is original, all that partakes of
inspiration, has come down to us from the classics," said Mr. Dale. "But
take your gift, Pauline. Now, my dear children, I beseech of you, don't
keep me any longer from my important work."

He was striding towards the house, when Verena got in front of him, Briar
stood at his left hand, Patty at his right, and Adelaide, Josephine,
Lucy, Helen, and Penelope came up in the rear.

"You don't stir," they cried, "until Paulie opens her parcel."

So Pauline knelt down on the grass, untied the clumsy cord, and removed
the brown paper. She then lifted the lid from a broken-down bandbox and
revealed a musty, fusty tome bound in old calf.

"It is my precious annotated edition of Cicero," said Mr. Dale. "I have
written your name in it--'Pauline Dale, from her affectionate father.' It
is yours now, and it will be yours in the future. If you like to leave it
on the shelf in my study, I shall not object, but it is yours to do what
you like with."

He sighed profoundly, and turned away with his lip trembling.

"Good gracious!" Miss Tredgold was heard to exclaim. Then she spoke to
Adelaide.

"Run into the house and bring out a cup of coffee. The precious man gets
queerer each moment. What a present to give the child!"

Pauline raised the big book and clasped it against her neat lilac frock.

"Thank you, father," she said. "I will learn to read it. Thank you very
much."

"And you don't object to its occupying its old place on my shelf?"

"No. Shall I run and put it there now?"

"Do. You are really a wise child. Sophia, as I have given Pauline her
present, I presume I need not stay out any longer