surprise, that she was not the vain and
frivolous woman he had supposed her to be, but was, in reality, very
sensible and intelligent. She talked very well about many things, and
even took an interest in science. Jaqui lost all desire to put her back
in her box, and spent the greater part of his leisure time in her
company."

At this the Mistress of the House smiled, but her daughter frowned.

"Of course," continued the gardener, "he soon fell in love with her."

"Which was natural enough," said the Mistress of the House.

"Whether it was natural enough or not," cried her daughter, "it was not
right."

John Gayther looked upon her with pride. He knew that in her fair young
mind that which ought to be rose high above thoughts of what was likely
to be, which came into the more experienced mind of her mother.

"But you see, miss," said John Gayther, "Jaqui was human. Here was a
lady very near his own age, still beautiful, very intelligent, living in
the same house with him, glad to see him whenever he chose to visit her.
It was all as clear as daylight, and it was not long before he was in
such a state of mind that he would have fallen upon Florino with a drawn
sword if the fool-poet had dared to renew his addresses to Donna
Paltravi."

"I must say," remarked the Mistress of the House, "that although his
action was natural enough, he was in great danger of becoming a
prose-fool."

"You are right, madam," said the gardener, "and Jaqui had some ideas
of that kind himself. But it was of no use. She was an uncommonly
attractive lady now that her mind came to the aid of her body. He knew
that nature was still working hard to make this blooming middle-aged
lady look like the old woman she really was. But love is a powerful
antidote to reason, and this was the first time Jaqui had ever been in
love. When he thought of it at all, he persuaded himself that it did not
matter how old this lady might come to be; he would love her all the
same. In fact, he was sure that if she were to turn young again and
become frivolous and beautiful, his love would not change. It was
getting stronger and stronger every time he saw her."

"What I am thinking about," exclaimed the Daughter of the House, "is
that poor old gentleman in Milan. No matter what the others were doing,
or what they were thinking, they were treating him shamefully, and Jaqui
was not his friend at all."

"You may be right," said her mother; "but, don't you see, thi