"Poor boy! It's a pity some old ghost of a monk could not interest himself in your education; but, as I said before, ghosts are absurdly useless, except to scare people whose consciences are bad, and nothing more is needed to make me doubt their existence than the fact of your living here in what should be their stronghold, and they never raise hand or foot to help you. It's quite in keeping with their ridiculous pretensions. Believe in ghosts? No, I never did, and I never will." The voice, small and weak though it was, grew quite angry in tone, and it seemed to Leo as if it were accompanied by the stamp of a foot; but he saw nothing, not so much as a spider crawling over the stone corridor. It was very peculiar. He pinched himself to see if he was awake. Yes, wide-awake, no doubt of that; besides, he seldom dreamed--indeed, never, unless his foot had slipped in climbing a crag to peep into a nest, when the fall was sometimes repeated in his sleep. Who was this speaking to him? As if in answer to his thoughts, the voice went on: "So far from being a good-for-nothing old ghost, I am one of the founders of the S.P.C.C., a very old society--much older than people of the present day imagine." Leo was quite ashamed to be so ignorant, but he ventured to ask, "What is the S.P.C.C.?" "Is it possible you have never heard of it?" "Never," replied Leo, still feeling as if he were talking to the walls. There was a queer little gurgling "Ha! ha!" which was at once suppressed. "Well, how could you know away off in this remote region?" "I am sure I don't understand you at all," said Leo. "No, I see you don't; and it's by no means remarkable. You live so entirely alone, and are so wretchedly neglected, that it is a wonder you know anything." Leo began to be angry, but it was too much of an effort; besides, what was there to be angry at--a voice? So he remained sulkily silent until the voice resumed, in a changed tone: "I beg your highness's pardon; I quite forgot myself. I am very apt to do that when I am much interested; it is a great fault, for I appreciate fine manners. But to explain. In the faraway cities where people live like ants in an ant-hill, all crowded together, there is often much cruelty and oppression, as well as vice and poverty. Now for this state of things they have laws and punishments, means of redress; but they relate principally to grown people's affairs; so the kind-hearted ones, noticing that little children are often in need of pity and care and protection, have an association called the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. It is as old as the hills, but they think it a modern invention. I am one of the original founders of that society, little as they know me; but human beings are _so_ vain." "Indeed!" said Leo, lazily; he was already tired of the whole matter. "Yes, vain and pretentious. Look at your father and his poems; he thinks his doggerel verses a mark of genius."