“It is a little French story, and so intensely interesting! Must we go home now?” and Brownie looked up wistfully at the clock. “Yes, it is about time. We shall be locked out if we do not get in before ten, you know.” “Oh, well, there is time enough, then. I must read just a little more. I will read aloud, for I know you will like it, the story is so beautifully told. Do you understand French?” “No.” “Well, no matter, I will translate it as I go along;” and Brownie began and read for ten minutes as fast as her tongue could fly, Mattie soon becoming as deeply interested as herself. She at length stopped, with a sigh. “Well, I suppose I must leave it; and they will not allow us to take any of these books away,” she said, regretfully. “It is beautiful, Meta; but, before we go, just read me a little in French. I should like to hear you.” Brownie laughed, and glad of any excuse to return to the book, began to read aloud in a spirited, piquant manner. “Dear, dear, what a chatter! I should certainly take you to be a Frenchwoman yourself,” interrupted Mattie, at length, adding: “It is not half so interesting to me, though, as when you translated it.” She arose as she spoke, and Brownie, with another wistful look at the entrancing pages, reluctantly laid the book down and followed her example. They were suddenly arrested, however, by a pleasant voice, saying: “One moment, if you please, young ladies.” They stopped and looked around. An old gentleman was sitting just a little back of where Brownie had sat, and he had been a very attentive listener while she was reading so glibly from the French romance. She had not dreamed of having another listener. He was venerable, genial-looking man, with flowing white hair and beard, and he wore gold-bowed spectacles, through which his clear blue eyes beamed kindly upon them. “Pardon me,” he said, courteously rising and addressing Brownie, “but I wished to ask you if you are a teacher of French?” “No, sir,” replied the young girl, blushing, as she thus became aware that he had been listening to her. “I only read for my own profit and amusement.” “Your accent is remarkably pure. Pardon me again, but where were you instructed in the language?” “In Philadelphia, sir. I had a teacher who was a native, and who never allowed his class, after they once understood the language, to utter a word in any other tongue during the hours for recitation.” “An excellent plan, young lady. Now, if it would not tax your patience too far, will you kindly read me two or three more sentences in French from this book?” The old gentleman took up the book she had but just laid aside, and held it out to her. Brownie bowed gracefully, wondering what his object could be in thus testing her powers, as she took the book and began reading again, fluently. “Thank you,” he said, after a few minutes, during which time he had been intently reading the face of the beautiful girl before him.