"Then, so are you to say so," Eliza retorted. "I tell you what is true. My brother Napoleon comes here every day. He stays in his grotto for hours. He talks to himself. I know what I am saying for I have come here lots and lots of times just to listen. But I do not let him see me, or he would drive me away." "Is he in there now?" inquired Panoria with curiosity. "I suppose so; he always is," replied Eliza. "Let us hide and listen, then," suggested Panoria. "I should like to know what he can say when he talks to himself. Boys are bad enough, anyway; but a boy who just talks to himself must be crazy." Eliza was hardly ready to agree to her little friend's theory, so she said, "Wait here, Panoria, and I will go and peep into the grotto to see if Napoleon is there." "Yes, do so," assented Panoria; "and I will run down to that garden and pick more flowers. See, there are many there." "Oh, no, you must not," Eliza objected; "that is my uncle the Canon Lucien's garden." "Well, and is your uncle the canon's garden more sacred than any one else's garden?" questioned Panoria flippantly. "What a goosie you are to ask that! Of course it is," declared Eliza. "But why?" Panoria persisted. "Why?" echoed Eliza; "just because it is. It is the garden of my great uncle the Canon Lucien; that is why." "It is, because it is! That is nothing," Panoria protested. "If I could not give a better reason"--"It is not my reason, Panoria," Eliza broke in. "It is Mamma Letitia's; therefore it must be right." "Well, I don't care," Panoria declared; "even if it is your mamma's, it is--but how is it your mamma's?" she asked, changing protest to inquiry. "Why, we hear it whenever we do anything," replied Eliza. "If they wish to stop our play, they say, 'Stop! you will give your uncle the headache.' If we handle anything we should not, they say, 'Hands off! that belongs to your uncle the canon.' If we ask for a peach, they tell us, 'No! it is from the garden of your uncle the canon.' If they give us a hug or a kiss, when we have done well, they say, 'Oh, your uncle the canon will be so pleased with you!' Was I not right? Is not our uncle the canon beyond all others?" "Yes; to worry one," declared Panoria rebelliously. "But why? Is it because he is canon of the cathedral here at Ajaccio that they are all so afraid of him?" "Afraid of him!" exclaimed Eliza indignantly. "Who is afraid of him? We are not. But, you see, Papa Charles is not rich enough to do for us what he would like. If he could but have the great estates in this island which are his by right, he would be rich enough to do everything for us. But some bad people have taken the land; and even though Papa Charles is a count, he is not rich enough to send us all to school; so our uncle, the Canon Lucien, teaches us many lessons. He is not cross, let me tell you, Panoria; but he is--well, a little severe." "What, then, does he whip you?" asked Panoria.