"Six!" The boys straightened themselves at that, roused into eager protest. "Six years old! And spoke Greek! And wrote Greek! Impossible!" "I have heard her talking for half-an-hour at a time. I have known the girls in the first form ask her to help them with their exercises. She knew more than anyone in the school." "Then she is a human prodigy. She ought to be exhibited. Six years old! Oh, I say--that child ought to turn out something great when she grows up. What did you say her name was, by the by?" Peggy lowered her eyelids, and pursed up her lips. "Andromeda Michaelides," she said slowly. "She was six last Christmas. Her father is Greek consul in Manchester." There was a pause of stunned surprise; and then, suddenly, an extraordinary thing happened. Mariquita bounded from her seat, and began flying wildly round and round the table. Her pigtail flew out behind her; her arms waved like the sails of a windmill, and as she raced along, she seized upon every loose article which she could reach, and tossed it upon the floor. Cushions from chairs and sofa went flying into the window; books were knocked off the table with one rapid sweep of the hand; magazines went tossing up in the air, and were kicked about like so many footballs. Round and round she went, faster and faster, while the five beholders gasped and stared, with visions of madhouses, strait-jackets, and padded rooms, rushing through their bewildered brains. Her pale cheeks glowed with colour; her eyes shone; she gave a wild shriek of laughter, and threw herself, panting and gasping, into a chair by the fireside. "Three cheers for Mariquita! Ho! Ho! Ho! Didn't I do it well? If you could have _seen_ your faces!" "P--P--P--eggy! Do you mean to say you have been pretending all this time? What do you mean? Have you been putting on all those airs and graces for a joke?" asked Esther, severely, and Peggy gave a feeble splutter of laughter. "W--wanted to see what you were like! Oh, my heart! Ho! Ho! Ho! wasn't it lovely? Can't keep it up any longer! Good-bye, Mariquita! I'm Peggy now, my dears. Some more tea!" (_To be continued._) [Illustration] FROCKS FOR TO-MORROW. BY "THE LADY DRESSMAKER."