I turned over a book of views in melancholy silence――views of the Linen Hall Library, and of Donegall Place; of the Cave Hill, and the Albert Memorial; and I wondered if it would please Katherine were I to send her a complete set. I looked at the price, written in Miss Izzy’s secret code, on the back, and could not make up my mind. “When people can’t control themselves there are places where they can have people to look after them,” Miss Izzy announced to a bundle of “Horner’s Penny Stories,” which she next moment swept viciously into a corner. This cryptic remark I took as referring to Aunt Margaret, but, seeing my expectant face, Miss Izzy unkindly refused to follow it up. I was disheartened, and began to read aloud advertisements of art books from the back of a magazine I had bought on my way home. The third of these bore the simple title “Michael Angelo,” and Miss Izzy astonished me by saying, “That’s one of Marie Corelli’s.” I ventured to tell her that Michael Angelo was a great painter and sculptor, but the information was lost on Miss Izzy, who in the midst of it said sharply, “Oh, don’t bother.” I waited for a while, digesting this snub. Then, “Was she talking about Mr. Moore?” I asked, indiscreetly. Miss Izzy regarded me at first mildly and absently, but as the sense of my question slowly forced its way through the meshes of her cogitations, suddenly in extreme wrath: “If you’d mind your own business,” she snapped, “you’d hear fewer lies. I don’t know what you’re doing down here at all!” “I’m doing nothing,” I answered, crestfallen. “People talk about girls being curious and gossiping,” Miss Izzy went on, scornfully, “but if other boys are like you――――” I retired upstairs without waiting for the conclusion of the parallel. I worked for an hour and a half, and by then it was tea-time. Aunt Margaret did not appear, and we were told she was lying down. George, who had come home earlier than usual, inquired where I was going to, and when I informed him, asked if he might come too. I did not like to refuse, though I did not want him, and knew he and Owen would not get on together. I told him I was going with Owen. “Is that the chap you’re so thick with? I don’t suppose he’ll mind me, will he?”