“Of course,” said Mrs. Corliss; “that’s where he comes in, isn’t it?” “Yes,” said Mary. “Oh, Mumsie, I was so surprised when I found Caliban’s name in the list of characters! I just shouted it right out; and you ought to have seen Caliban arch his neck and rub his head against me, and purr like a little furnace. I’m sure he knew it was _his_ play. And isn’t it a lovely play, Mother? I like it best of all.” “So do I,” said her mother. One day Mary coaxed Katy Summers home with her after school. “The time has come for you to keep your promise, Katy,” said Mary. “You’ve got to listen to Shakespeare now.” “All right,” said Katy resignedly. “I suppose I must, sooner or later.” “I am going to read you some of ‘The Tempest,’” said Mary. “I want you to like it as well as I do.” “You know I never cared for poetry,” said Katy doubtfully. “But you will care for _this_,” said Mary positively, “especially if you hear it read. That’s the way everybody ought to know poetry, I think. Why, even Caliban likes to hear me read poetry. See, here he comes to listen.” Sure enough, at the sound of Mary’s voice Caliban had come running into the library with a little purr. He looked very handsome and fluffy these days. Waving his tail majestically, he jumped up into Mary’s lap and sat on her knee blinking his green eyes at Katy as if to say, “Now you are going to hear something fine!” “I believe John is right,” said Katy. “He does look like a witch-cat. He’s too knowing by half! I suppose I shall have to like the reading, if he says so.” Katy was just a bit jealous of Mary’s new friend. “Of course Caliban knows what is best!” chuckled Mary. “Now, listen, Katy.” And she began to read the beautiful lines. Presently she caught up with her own bookmark, and went on with scenes which she had not read before. Mary read very nicely, and Katy listened patiently, while Caliban purred more and more loudly, “knitting” with busy paws on Mary’s knees. After a while Katy saw Mary’s eyes grow wide, and she paused in the reading, ceasing to stroke Caliban’s glossy fur. Caliban looked up at her and stopped purring, as if to say, “What is it, little Mistress?” “What is the matter? Go on, Mary,” cried Katy. “I like it!” “It’s a Song,” said Mary, in a queer voice, “and words of it are underlined, Katy, in the same way that the other place I told you of was underlined.” Katy nodded eagerly. She had heard about the clue to the finding of the key. “What does it say?” she asked. And Mary read the lines of the Song:-- “Full fathom five thy father lies; _Of his bones are coral made_; _Those are pearls, that were his eyes_; Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into _something rich and strange_. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell; Hark! now I hear them--Ding-dong, bell!” “It’s lovely!” cried Katy. “And which lines are underscored, Mary?”