e the exception to any
rule."

"Why?"

"Because--Really, my dear, you ask too many questions!"

Although Straws and Celestina had left the house early in the day, it
was noon before they reached the attractive garden, wherein was
sequestered the "select seminary."

In this charming prison, whose walls were overrun with flowering
vines, and whose cells were pretty vestal bowers, entered the bard and
the young girl, to be met on the front porch by the wardeness herself,
a mite of a woman, with wavy yellow hair, fine complexion and
washed-out blue eyes. Sensitive almost to shyness, Mademoiselle de
Castiglione appeared more adapted for the seclusion of the veil in the
Ursuline Church than for the varied responsibilities of a young
ladies' institute. At the approach of the poet, she turned, looked
startled, but finally came forward bravely.

"Oh, I've read it again, Mr. Straws!" she exclaimed, impetuously.

"What?" he returned, sternly, pausing at the foot of the steps.

"Your--your lovely Strophes!" she continued, timidly.

The bard frowned. "All great men profess to scowl at flattery,"
thought Straws. "She will have but a poor opinion of me, if I do not
appear an offended Hector!"

"Mademoiselle, I excessively dislike compliments," he began aloud, but
having gone thus far, his courage and lack of chivalry failed him in
the presence of her dismay; he forgot his greatness, and hastened to
add, with an ingratiating smile: "Except when delivered by such a
charming person!"

"Oh, Mr. Straws!"

"This, Mademoiselle," resumed the bard, "is the young girl I spoke
about. Her mother," he added in a low voice, "was a beautiful
quadroon; her father"--here Straws mentioned a name. The wardeness
flushed furiously. "Father died; always meant to make it right;
didn't; crime of good intentions! Virago of an aunt; regular
termagant; hates the girl! Where was a home to be found for her?
Where"--gazing around him--"save this--Eden? Where a mother--save in
one whose heart is the tenderest?"

Diplomatic Straws! Impulsively the wardeness crossed to Celestina; her
blue eyes beamed with sentiment and friendliness. "I will give her my
personal attention," she said. And then to the young girl: "We will be
friends, won't we?"

"Yes," replied Celestina, slowly, after a moment's discreet
hesitation. She was glad the other did not kiss her like Feu-de-joie.

"I always like," said the wardeness, "to feel my little girls are all
my litt