Mr. Homer shook his head. "I have not touched the Epic," he said, "since--since the events which have recently concatenated, if I may so express myself. I sometimes think that I shall never touch it again, Miss Bethia." "Oh, don't say that, Homer!" Miss Wax protested; but the little gentleman went on, with an agitated wave. "I sometimes feel as if the Muse had deserted me; had--a--ceased to gild with her smile the--shall I say the peaks of my fancy? I have endeavored to woo her back. My brother Pindar is most anxious that I should write an--an ode--for this celebration which he is planning; but the numbers in which I have been in the habit of lisping, and which--I may say to you, my valued friend--were wont in happier days to flow,--to--a--meander,--to--a--babble o'er Pirene's sands, with ease and--and alacrity, now hesitate;--a--reluctate;--a--refuse the meed of melody which--which the occasion demands. My brother Pindar,--you have seen him, Miss Bethia?" "Oh, yes!" said Miss Wax, softly. "He was here yesterday. He asked--he was so good as to invite me to appear in the Festival Procession as--as Minerva." Mr. Homer looked up eagerly. "And you replied?" he asked. "I asked for time to consider," said Miss Wax, looking down. "I need not say to you, Homer, that it is not easy to refuse Pindar's first request, after so many years of absence;" she sighed gently; "but--but reflection has convinced me that it would not be altogether--shall I say suitable? I have never appeared in public, Homer, and I hardly feel--" She paused, for Mr. Homer was waving his hands and opening and shutting his mouth in great agitation. "Precisely so!" he cried. "Oh, very much so indeed, my dear friend. It is an unspeakable consolation to find that you share my sentiments on this subject. May I, Miss Bethia,--with friendship's key,--unlock, so to speak, the counsels of my--my bleeding breast? We are old friends: we twa--if I may quote Burns in this connection--ha' paidl't i' the burn,--I speak metaphorically, my dear lady, as I need not assure you,--frae mornin' sun till dine; the poets refuse occasionally the bonds of grammar, and both rhyme and metre require the verb in this instance, as you will readily perceive, even though--" Mr. Homer waved the subject to its conclusion, and hurried on: "You have also known Pindar from childhood, and have always felt--may I not say kindly, toward the wayward but high-souled lad?" "Oh, yes!" murmured Miss Bethia, softly, with another gentle sigh.