I stood the clock on the ground in front of her and questioned her twice more in the course of the day--correct replies being given. I also left the clock standing near her for the rest of the day, for I wanted the flight of time to become impressed on her, and her eye was bound to rest on the dial now and again during the course of the day. Her answers were invariably right now for, by way of test, I inquired: "How many minutes are there in half an hour?" And she replied: "30." And again: "How many minutes has a quarter of an hour--that is, an hour divided by 4?" And she answered: "15." She also showed much interest in all this, for she sat as still as could be, listening attentively to all my explanations. And I kept her interest alive by always telling her "what nice new things Lola would be able to learn," and at this she was visibly pleased. The next day I made casual remarks as to the time of day out loud, and all this day's answers were equally good. I now saw that she had grasped the essentials--so that I could put the clock away, and there is not another in my rooms, the nearest being a big one standing in the kitchen which is on the ground floor. I never carry my watch, leaving it in a drawer--and generally forgetting to wind it up, so that if I do not ask, I seldom know what the time is. I have no sense of time whatever myself, so that to me it may seem either long or short--according to what I may be doing. I have always envied people who possessed this sense of absolute certainty in guessing the time--it is not a common gift. I make this remark "parenthetically" in my desire for trying to elucidate the causes which lie at the back of the "feeling for time."