"Yes," says she, "I do; but to me the eccentricities of genius are always interesting. To be an attractive lion one must say bright things, no matter how hard they cut." "I wasn't aware," says I, "that lions were given to much talking." "Oh!" says she, "that depends. There is your talkative lion, your learned lion, your silent lion--" "That is the sort that I've always seen," says I; "now and then a growl, but nothing beyond that." Cousin E. E. began to laugh again, till she had to hold one hand to her side. "Oh! cousin, paws, paws," says she; "you just kill me with laughing." "Yes," says I, "I don't deny that lions have paws, but it was speech we were talking about, and that I do deny." Cousin E. E. just shrieked out laughing, though for the life of me I couldn't tell what it was all about. "Now, don't you understand me--honest now--don't you?" says she. "Why, of course I do; only nothing could be more ridiculous than the idea of a great, big, magnificent wild beast, with a swinging walk, and a tuft on the end of his tail, being showed off at a dinner-table. I for one shouldn't have a mite of appetite with such a creature prowling round." "My dear, dear cousin, I'm speaking of human lions." "Human lions! I always thought the creatures were awfully inhuman," says I; "nothing but a jackal can be worse." "I mean great people--celebrated for something--bravery, literature, the arts, sciences," says she. "Well, what of them?" says I. "In society we sometimes call them lions." "O--oh!" says I, drawing the word out to give myself time. "So you really thought I didn't understand. Why, of course. Dear me! cousin, how easy it is to cheat you!" "Oh!" says she, "one must get up early to match you women of genius, I'm aware of that. What dry humor you have, now, looking so innocent and earnest, too!" I smiled benignly upon Cousin E. E.; if she could find any humor in what we'd been a-talking about, it was more than I could. Lions! Where does the joke come in, when human beings are called such names as that? Wild beasts, indeed! "How really modest you are!" says Cousin E. E. "Anybody else, who could write as you do, would have known that she was meant when I mentioned lions." I dropped my eyes, and folded both hands. "It will be the great feature of our party," says she. "Our friends will know that you are a blood relation, and that pleases Dempster; besides, you converse so beautifully, too." "Do I?" says I, folding one hand over the other, and back again. "And look so--so distinguished." I drew my figure upright, and looked into the glass opposite. My cousin had chosen her words well; there was something imposing in the bend of that head. I say nothing; but she was right. Indeed, so far as I am concerned, she generally is. Early in the morning I sent down for my pink silk dress. Cousin E. E. looked as if she was going to say something against it, at first; but, after a little, her face cleared up, and I heard her muttering: