“What a splendid idea! We never even thought of a speech! that’s just the thing!” and Oscar rushed away in a state of great enthusiasm. “Now, aunty,” cried Emma, in a tone of relief as he disappeared, “it’s my turn now. Don’t you think I am right?” “I didn’t hear exactly what you said, Emma,” said her aunt; “I haven’t the gift of hearing different things with different ears at the same time.” “What I say is that it’s a shame for Fani to have to go to work in that factory, and not have any time to paint and draw. I am sure he ought to be a painter, right away; and if he goes into the factory he can’t get out till it’s too late.” “But, Emma, it’s not such an easy thing to become a painter as you seem to think. And, then, who knows whether Fani has really talent enough; it needs much more than merely to be able to copy nicely at school, you know.” “But, aunty, I only want you to say that it would be much better for Fani to be a painter, if he can, than to go into the factory. Now, don’t you really and truly think so, aunty?” Emma was so pressing that her aunt could not avoid answering her; so she said kindly, “If Fani had any real prospect of becoming a painter, I should certainly think well of it; but I do not see that he has any.” “May I go on now, aunty?” asked Fred; “it seems to me that Emma is talking a vast deal of nonsense, as usual.” But Emma was not to be put off so. “Aunty,” she said, “what is a decorator?” “A person who decorates; that is, adorns or beautifies. Why do you ask, my child?” “It means a scene-painter too; a man who paints scenery for the stage,” said Fred. “Yes, that’s it,” said Emma, and she scampered away. Fred sat silent for a while, and then he said:-- “Aunty dear, did you notice how queerly Emma behaved? Do you suppose she is thinking of going on the stage?” “No, indeed, my dear boy,” said his aunt calmly; “she has no idea of that kind, you may be sure.” “Well, take my word for it, she has something out of the way in her head. She’s not often very particular to know the meaning of a word; she’s not very keen after knowledge. I’m sure there’s something in the wind.” There was no time for more; for a sudden familiar shriek struck their ears. “A snake! oh, a snake! a snake!” Fred clapped his hand to his pocket, and then ran out-of-doors. “Now I can finish the pudding,” thought aunty; but another still wilder scream betokened such dire alarm that she threw down her spoon and followed. It was Rikli, of course, who was standing half-way down the steps leading up to the back door, looking down on a pretty little green snake on the step below, that was wriggling along as fast as possible, trying to make its escape. Fred was seated quietly on the top step, waiting for the noise to subside. “How absurd you are, Rikli,” said her aunt gently; “if you are so afraid of that harmless little creature, why don’t you turn round and run away?”