words which he had printed in large capitals on the
night when he had returned to his study still in their place of honor on
the wall, and he worked himself with a new sense of zest and freedom.

Miss Tredgold entered the room without knocking.

"Well, Henry," she said, "and how goes the world?"

"The world of the past comes nearer and nearer," was his reply. "I often
feel that I scarcely touch the earth of the nineteenth century. The world
of the past is a very lovely world."

"Not a bit better than the world of the present," said Miss Sophia. "Now,
Henry, if you can come from the clouds for a minute or two----"

"Eh? Ah! What are you saying?"

"From the clouds, my dear brother, right down to this present prosaic and
workaday world. Can you, and will you give me five minutes of your
attention?"

"Eh? Yes, of course, Sophia."

Mr. Dale sat very still, drumming with his right hand on his pad of
blotting-paper. Miss Tredgold looked at him; then she crossed the room,
took away the pad, his pen and ink, the open volume of Homer, and removed
them to another table.

"Sit with your back to them; keep your mind clear and listen to me,
Henry."

"To be sure."

"I want you to come into the schoolroom after breakfast to-morrow
morning."

"To the schoolroom?"

"I have a reason. I should like you to be present."

"But it is just my most important hour. You commence lessons with the
girls--when, Sophia?"

"We sit down to our work at nine o'clock. Prayers take ten minutes. I
should like you to be present at prayers--to conduct Divine worship in
your own house on that occasion."

"Oh, my dear Sophia! Not that I have any objection--of course."

"I should hope you have no objection. You will take prayers, and
afterwards you will assist me in a most painful task which lies before
me."

"Painful, Sophia? Oh, anything I can do to help you, my dear sister, I
shall be delighted to undertake. What is it? I beg of you to be brief,
for time does fly. It was only a quarter of an hour ago that I found
Homer----"

"I could say a very ugly word about Homer," said Miss Tredgold.
"Sometimes I wish that I were a man in order that I might swear hard at
you, Henry Dale. As I am a woman I must refrain. Do you know that your
daughter Pauline, your daughter Briar, your daughter Patty, and your
extraordinary daughter Penelope are all of them about as naughty children
as they can be. Indeed, in the case of Pauline I consider her worse