n utter disregard of the unities. Here
Egyptian scarabaei were perched on an Alpine mountain; there a clay
amphora, of the shape of the Greeks or Romans, was adorned with gaudy
plates cut out of fashion magazines.

The merchants in Atwood, taking advantage of this _furore,_ sent for all
shapes of pottery, but they could not import the taste to decorate it.
Atwood, however, was satisfied with its own style of art, and that was
sufficient.

Silvia's decorations were rather better than those of her acquaintances.
She read everything she could on the subject, but, with her usual
self-conceit, refused to ask any questions of those who might have
enlightened her, and in fact, set herself up as an oracle on art
decorations.

One day, she saw in a city paper a list of articles for decoration,
among which were "cuspadores."

"What on earth is a 'cuspadore'?" she asked herself.

Of course, something lovely, she judged, from the name. It was
high-sounding, and seemed classical. She concluded it must be one of
those lovely vases she had read descriptions of, and she determined to
buy one that very evening, for of course Morris had them among his new
lot of potteries.

She went to school that morning with her head full of cuspadores. She
missed all her lessons, and got a bad mark for inattention, but the
thought of a cuspadore kept her from worrying over her misfortunes.

"I do hope Miss Hall isn't going to keep us all the afternoon bothering
over that rhetoric," she said to her friend Anna Lee. "I want to go up
town this evening, and must go, if it's dark when I get home."

"What are you so crazy to go up town for?" asked Anna.

"Oh, I want to go to Morris's store to get a cuspadore."

"Cuspa---what?" inquired her amazed companion. "What on earth is that?"

"You'll see when I get it," was the evasive answer.

"Oh, bother your mysteries! You needn't make a secret of it, Just tell
me what it is and what it's for."

With all her heart, Silvia wished that she could answer that question.
Thinking she could not be very far wrong, she ventured to say,--

"It's a lovely antique vase. I'm going to put a running border of roses
and pansies on it,--the sweetest pictures you ever saw,--and I'll put it
on the mantel for flowers."

"I never heard of them before," persisted Anna. "Where did you see them,
Sil?"

Another falsehood was required.

"I saw a great many pretty things when I was in the city last March, and
cuspadore