with the other Teacups, the American Annex whispered to the other
Annex, "His hair wants cutting,--it looks like fury." "Quite so," said
the English Annex. "I wish you would tell him so,--I do, awfully."
"I'll fix it," said the American girl. So, after the teacups were
emptied and the company had left the table, she went up to the Professor.
"You read this lecture, don't you, Professor?" she said. "I do," he
answered. "I should think that lock of hair which falls down over your
forehead would trouble you," she said. "It does sometimes," replied the
Professor. "Let our little maid trim it for you. You're equal to that,
aren't you?" turning to the handmaiden. "I always used to cut my father's
hair," she answered. She brought a pair of glittering shears, and before
she would let the Professor go she had trimmed his hair and beard as they
had not been dealt with for many a day. Everybody said the Professor
looked ten years younger. After that our little handmaiden was always
called Delilah, among the talking Teacups.

The Mistress keeps a watchful eye on this young girl. I should not be
surprised to find that she was carrying out some ideal, some fancy or
whim,--possibly nothing more, but springing from some generous, youthful
impulse. Perhaps she is working for that little sister at the Blind
Asylum. Where did she learn French? She did certainly blush, and
betrayed every sign of understanding the words spoken about her in that
language. Sometimes she sings while at her work, and we have all been
struck with the pure, musical character of her voice. It is just such a
voice as ought to come from that round white throat. We made a discovery
about it the other evening.

The Mistress keeps a piano in her room, and we have sometimes had music
in the evening. One of The Teacups, to whom I have slightly referred, is
an accomplished pianist, and the two Annexes sing very sweetly
together,--the American girl having a clear soprano voice, the English
girl a mellow contralto. They had sung several tunes, when the Mistress
rang for Avis,--for that is our Delilah's real name. She whispered to
the young girl, who blushed and trembled. "Don't be frightened," said the
Mistress encouragingly. "I have heard you singing 'Too Young for Love,'
and I will get our pianist to play it. The young ladies both know it,
and you must join in."

The two voices, with the accompaniment, had hardly finished the first
line when a pure, ringing, almost chil