There was a pause. The description sounded so little like either of us that I expected Elizabeth to go right on to more promising vices. But she was evidently turning the matter over in her mind. "I think that's Adelaide Harrison's predominant passion," she said at length. Somewhat surprised, I acquiesced. It had not occurred to me to send my thoughts wandering over the rest of the school, or I should, perhaps, have reached some similar conclusion. "Yes, it's certainly Adelaide Harrison's passion," Elizabeth went on thoughtfully. "You remember how she behaved about that composition of hers, 'The Woods in Autumn,' that Madame Duncan thought so fine. She said she ought to be able to write a good composition when her mother had written a whole volume of poems, and her brother had written something else,--I don't remember what. That's what _I_ call pride." "She says they are a talented family," I added maliciously. ("Is my conversation always charitable and edifying?") "That she taught herself to read when she was six years old, and that they all speak French when they are together. I don't believe that." "It must be horrid, if they do," said Elizabeth. "I'm glad I'm not one of them. Vous ne mangez rien, ma chère Adelaide. Est-ce que vous êtes malade?" "Hélas! oui, mon père. J'ai peur que j'étudie trop. Go on, Elizabeth, I'm afraid the bell will ring." Thus adjured, Elizabeth continued: "There are many young people whose predominant passion is a certain ill-humour, fretfulness, peevishness, or irritability, which pervades their words, manners, and even looks. It is usually brought into action by such mere trifles that there is no chance of peace for those who live in the house with them. Even their best friends are not always secure from their ill-tempered sallies, their quarrelsome moods. Pettish and perverse, they throw a gloom over the gayest hour, and the most innocent amusement. As this luckless disposition is peculiarly that of women, young girls cannot be too earnestly recommended to combat the tendency in youth, lest they become, when older, the torment of that society they are intended to bless and ornament." Another pause,--a short one this time. Elizabeth's eyes met mine with an unspoken question, and I nodded acquiescence. "Tony!" we breathed simultaneously.