“I couldn’t be regular, but I tell you what I’ll do. If you’ll have some recitation ready whenever I come, I’ll give you a few minutes.” That was enough for Susie, and from that time the doctor became her tutor, taking up, first, chemistry and natural philosophy, and then other branches. But this is wandering from the subject of conversation interrupted by the blowing of bubbles. “The truth is,” said the doctor, “women, in their love, do not fully meet men. According to my experience, few women ever comprehend the ardor with which men are capable of loving them. Now, the question is, is it when they do, or do not, so respond perfectly, that women meet the fate of Semele?” “The fate of Semele?” queried Mrs. Buzzell. “Yes; she loved Jove, and was utterly consumed for her daring.” “I remember now,” said Mrs. Buzzell, smiling. “Why, her fate was not so bad, for her suffering was but momentary. Her lover was a god. That must be quite an advantage; and then he loved perfectly, and she also, I suppose.” Mrs. Buzzell was in a complaisant mood, or she would not have treated any heathen mythology so considerately. “I never thought of it before in that light,” replied the doctor. “She must have been the only woman whom any lover ever satisfied. Your sex is very exacting. You expect men to keep up to concert-pitch all the time; but, you see, we have to go out into the world and purvey for bread-and-butter. _Sine Cerere et Baccho friget Venus_, you know.” “_Sine Cerere_,” repeated Susie, laboring with the Latin, of which she knew a little. “‘Without corn and wine love freezes’ will do,” said the doctor. “True,” said Mrs. Buzzell; “but it is just where corn and wine are abundant, that you feed us on dry husks—not to mention that you seek pastures new, for yourselves.”