"Then what _do_ you remember?" said Pamela with a suspicion of mischief in her voice. The three looked uncomfortable. On their faces was the same expression that Pamela often saw on the faces of her pupils in school when unable to answer her questions. "The names were rather hard," ventured Concetta. "Yes, but you must remember one fact,--at least one among all the things that I have been telling you." "I remember one," ventured Maggie. "Well, then, we shall be glad to hear it." "Why the Assyrians used to make their enemies look smaller than they when they made reliefs of battles," ventured Maggie. "And the Egyptians were very fond of cats," added Gretchen; and with all her efforts this was all the information Pamela gleaned from the girls after her hour's work. But before she had a chance to try a new and better way of presenting the Tanagra figures to them, she heard her name pronounced in a well-known voice, and looking up she saw Philip Blair gazing at her charges, and at her too, with an air of amusement. "This is a surprise. I did not realize that you were a lover of art," she said a little awkwardly. "Oh, yes, indeed, though I can't tell you when I've been in this museum before. It looks just about the same, though, as it did when I was a kid." "There are some new paintings upstairs," said Pamela; "though it's almost closing time now," she added, glancing at her watch. When they saw that Pamela was fairly absorbed in conversation, the three girls wandered off toward another room where, Concetta whispered, there were prettier things to be seen. "Do you bring them here often?" There was something quizzical in Philip's tone as he watched the three for a moment. "Some of them every week; it's a great pleasure." Pamela was bound not to apologize. "Do you think they'll get an idea of household art by coming here?" "I'm sure I hope so, though that isn't my whole aim. It will take more than these visits here to get them to change their views of the really beautiful. Concetta is always telling me about some of the beauties in the house of her cousin, who married a saloon-keeper. They have green and red brocade furniture in their sitting-room, and a piano that is decorated with a kind of stucco-work, as well as I can understand her description, for it can hardly be hand-carving." Emboldened by Philip's hearty laugh Pamela continued: "She also thinks our pictures far too simple, 'too neat and plain,' I think she called them. Certainly she told me that she likes chromos in gilt frames." "It is clearly, then, your duty to raise her ideals, though when it comes to a whole houseful of new ideas, you will certainly have all that you can do."