“That’s because you are such a geni_ass_, Mildred,” said her brother Harold. “Geniuses are always supposed to burn the midnight oil, are they not, Miss Franks?” “I really don’t know,” answered Celia. “My brother always works in the morning; but then, perhaps, he isn’t a genius.” “I wish you would tell me all about Mr. Karne’s method of work,” said Miss Brooke, eagerly. “It is so very interesting to know the ideas of a well-known artist.” “Herbert has written a little book on ‘Modern Art’ which may interest you. I believe I have a copy of it somewhere. I will look it out for you if you like,” returned Celia, always anxious to please. Mildred Brooke effusively expressed her thanks; and that she might not forget her promise, Celia searched for the book directly she arrived home. She did not know exactly where to look for it, but, after some amount of rummaging, found it at the bottom of a trunk, underneath a pile of old music. It was very dusty, and looked as if it had not seen daylight for some time. Celia dusted it carefully, and shook the leaves. As she did so, a small sheet of foreign writing-paper dropped out on to the floor. She picked it up and examined it. It was evidently a note of some description, but was not addressed to any one by name. The calligraphy was English in character but was barely legible, and the ink was faded. With difficulty Celia made out the following words:-- “9, Rue d’Alençon, Neuilly. Longchamps an utter frost. Auteuil ditto. Bonne Bouche a dead cert this time. Hurry up, old man, and send a hundred by return, or I come to England for change of air.--NINETTE.” She read it over twice, but could make nothing of it. To whom was it addressed, and who was “Ninette”? _Ninette_--the name seemed strangely familiar, yet she was unable to remember where or when she had heard it before. Perhaps Herbert had lent the book to somebody, and the note had been inserted as a bookmark. She would ask him about it some day, if she did not forget. Meanwhile she locked it away in her desk, and gave the book to Montie to take to Mildred Brooke. Then she sat down to write a letter to her brother. Mrs. Friedberg had asked her if she intended to take a seat in the synagogue for the forthcoming _Yomtovim_,[4] and she wished to have Herbert’s advice. She was undecided whether to observe the holydays or not. Hitherto she had never done so, for lack of opportunity; but now that she was living with a Jewish family, within easy reach of several synagogues, she had no such excuse.