After tea Miss Donnithorne showed me some of her treasures--vast collections of shells, which she had been gathering in different parts of the world ever since she was a small child. I was fascinated by them; she told me that I might help to arrange them for her, and I spent a very blissful time in this fashion until it was time for supper. Supper was a simple meal, which consisted of milk and bread-and-butter and different sorts of stewed fruit. "I don't approve of late dinners," said Miss Donnithorne. "That is," she added, "not for myself. Now, Dumps, do tell me what sort of meal the Professor eats before he goes to bed at night." "Oh, anything that is handy," I answered. "But doesn't he have a good nourishing meal, the sort to sustain a brain like his?" "I don't know," I replied. "Hannah sees to it." "But don't you?" said Miss Donnithorne, looking rather severe, and the laugh going out of her eyes. "Don't you attend to your father's wants?" "As much as I can, Miss Donnithorne. You see, I am still supposed to be nothing but a child, and Hannah has the management of things." "You are supposed to be nothing but a child?" said Miss Donnithorne, and she looked me all up and down. How I did hate the length of leg that I showed in my very short skirt! She fixed her eyes in a very obstinate manner on those said legs, clothed as they were in coarse stockings, which, alack and alas! were darned in more places than one. Then her eyes travelled lower and rested on my feet. I had taken off my huge boots now; but what was the good of that when my feet were enveloped in shoes quite as large, and of the very ugliest possible make? Miss Donnithorne heaved a profound sigh. "I wish--" I said impulsively. "You wish what, Rachel?" "That you would let me wear the brown skirt." "And why, child? It is absolutely hideous." "But it is long," I cried. "You would not see my legs nor my ugly feet." "Rachel, you want a great deal of attention; you are being sadly neglected." "Am I?" I said. Then I added, "Why do you say so?" "It is but to look at you. You are not such a child that you could not do hundreds of things which at present never enter into your head." "How do you know, Miss Donnithorne?" "I know," she answered. "A little bird has told me." Now, all my life I had hated women who spoke about having confidences with little birds; and I now said impulsively, "Please don't say that. I am so inclined to like you just awfully! But if you wouldn't speak about that bird--" "You have heard of it before?" she asked, and the sparkle came back into her eyes. "Well, never mind how I know. I suppose I know because I have got observation. But, to begin with, tell me how old you are." "I'll be sixteen in a little less than six months." "Bless us!" said Miss Donnithorne, "why can't the child say she is fifteen and a half?" "Oh, that's because of the birthdays," I replied. "The birthdays?" she asked, raising her brows.