ou what an experience Stella
had yesterday, and see if you don't think she had something to disturb
her."

Mr. Bates said: "Would like to hear it; misery always loves company."

So Mrs. Herne commenced telling about the bottle of ink falling into
Stella's lap. Just as she commenced to relate the incident Penloe came
on the porch with Mrs. French, and they took a seat near Mrs. Herne.
About two minutes later Prof. French and Stella joined the group, and
before Mrs. Herne had got to that part of the story where she asks
Stella, "What is the matter?" and Stella laughed and said: "I got some
new figures on my wedding dress, don't you think they are pretty?" about
all the guests were now grouped about Mrs. Herne. They were either
sitting on the wide porch or standing near by. When Mrs. Herne had
finished, Mr. Bates said in a comical kind of way: "If that had been my
wedding dress, I would have felt so mad that I would feel like throwing
the youngster out of the window and swearing a blue streak."

Turning to Stella, he said: "I have got no such control over myself as
you have. I wish I had."

Mrs. French said: "Stella, how could you take it so cheerfully? Why, if
that had been my wedding dress, I would have felt too mad to speak; in
fact, I don't know just what I would do."

Pretty Miss Grace Nettleton, a young lady full of fun and always the
life of any party, laughingly said: "As I intend to be an old maid, no
bottle of ink will ever fall on my wedding dress, but if such a thing
should happen I would feel like going to bed and having a good cry."

Several other ladies remarked: "I don't see how Stella could have been
so peaceful and pleasant. I know I never could."

Miss Baker, the school teacher, who had many trying pupils, remarked to
Mrs. French: "I wish I could control myself like Stella; how easy I
could govern the scholars."

Penloe said: "Did any of you ever hear the story of Shuka?"

Several answered: "No."

Mrs. French said: "Do tell it, Penloe."

"Yes," said Mrs. Herne, "we all would like to hear it." The company
became very attentive while Penloe related the following story with
telling effect:

"There was a great sage called Vyasa.[3] This Vyasa was the writer of
the Vedanta philosophy, a holy man. His father had tried to become a
very perfect man and failed; his grandfather tried and failed; his
great-grandfather tried and failed; he himself did not succeed
perfectly, but his son Shuka was born