ust took the law into her own hands and had it carried
down and hidden in the cellar. When he came home he went straight to
the studio, and--my dears! I am glad I didn't happen to be in the
house, that's all. I know what my father is like when he can't find a
clothes-brush, or someone has moved the matches out of the dressing-
room. Millais raged about like a wild animal, but his wife was quite
firm and determined, and wouldn't tell him where it was for several
days. He was obliged to go out and interest himself in other ways, and
when he was quite well again she had the picture brought up, and he
simply looked at it and laughed. He knew at once what was wrong, and
how to put it right."

"I say," cried Flora eagerly, "do tell that story to Miss Phipps! She
might give us a week's holiday and send us to see the sights of London!
Do, Kate! Get it up in French and tell it to-night at tea. You don't
know how much good it might do!"

"It's a very good story, but I fail to see where the moral comes in. It
hardly applies to us, I think," said Clara, in her superior manner, and
Kate breathlessly vindicated her position.

"Yes, it does--of course it does. It shows that this anxious stage is a
natural thing which all workers have to live through, and even if we
can't leave off lessons altogether, we can help ourselves by not giving
way to nerves, but going steadily on, knowing that we shall feel all
right again in a few days. Besides, there's the Exeat coming,--that
will make a nice break."

"I never worry about lessons, do I?" cried Pixie, pluming herself
complacently. The part of Kate's lecture which had dealt with over-
anxiety about work had appealed with special force to one listener at
least, and Pixie was delighted to find that she was free from failing in
one direction at least. "I never did. Miss Minnitt--that's the one who
used to teach us--she said I never paid any attention at all. There was
one day she was questioning me about grammar. `Pixie O'Shaughnessy,'
she says, `you've been over this one page until it's worn transparent.
For pity's sake,' she says, `be done with it, and get on to something
fresh. Let me see if you can remember to-day what I taught you
yesterday afternoon. How many kinds of verbs are there?' `There are
two,' I said, and with that she was all smiles and noddings. `So there
are, now. You're quite right. And what will be their names?' `Verb
and adverb,' says I, quite hau