"No danger of that," responded Grace, complacently. "The professor knows better than to quarrel with his bread and butter; he knows that pupils don't grow on every bush, and it would take a great deal more than that to provoke him into a retort. He only bites his lips, and grows red in the face, and says, 'This is irrelevant, Miss Churchill.'" "Upon my word," said Josephine, with a sneer, "by the time the poor man finishes your education, I think he'll be fit to be translated to his reward, without any further sojourn in the church militant. No honest council would deny him canonization after such a fiery trial." "Poor old Mabire must have a high place by this time, if his reward is at all proportioned to his sufferings," said Grace, slily. "You remember, Josephine, how sweet you used to be to that old man? I liked to listen at the study door, and hear him walk up and down the floor, and grind his teeth and gasp, 'C'est trop, c'est trop!' I suppose the bread-and-butter question prevented his speaking to mamma; but, really, you must confess, he was a victim! Now _I_ never go the lengths of biting and scratching, but always confine myself to"---- "Grace, _mon ange_," cried Josephine, flushing up angrily, "if you don't want to be sent to take your meals in the nursery, you had better learn to be less pert and"---- "Truthful's the word you want, dear," drawled Grace, unconcernedly. "It's the last word I should think of applying to you," retorted her sister. "_Tout doucement, chérie!_" ejaculated Grace, squeezing up her mouth. But at this juncture, mamma, who had been engaged in opening some notes and cards of invitation that John had brought in, now becoming aroused to a sense of the impending storm, came to the rescue, and in a few cutting words used up everybody present, Phil and myself included, and restored a forced peace; and during the remainder of the meal, Josephine sulked, Phil looked heartily distressed, and I felt miserably uncomfortable, Grace alone preserving an unmoved and complacent demeanor. It was just as we had finished dessert, that there came a ring at the bell that made me start. Foolish as it was, I had been listening to the bell all day, with a vague kind of hope that it would prove of interest to me; and when John presented a card to my aunt, which contained the only familiar name to me in this strange place, and, in fact, the only name I cared to see, I really feared that Grace's quick ear would catch the loud throbbing of my heart, as she surely did catch the quick blush on my cheeks.