But either invention flagged, or self-consciousness intervened, for Kenelm said: "Blessed if I know what she _did_ say! But at any rate, you'll agree that it was quite a garden, Kirky. I'll also bet a hat that you haven't done your lesson for to-morrow. It's not _your_ Easter vacation, if it is ours. Miss Bolton will hop you." "Think of doing silly reading-book things, after hearing all that," Kirk sighed. "Suppose you had to do cuneiform writing on a dab of clay, like the Babylonish king," Ken said; "all spikey and cut in, instead of sticking out; much worse than Braille. Go to it, and let Mother sit here, laziness." Kirk sighed again, a tremendous, pathetic sigh, designed to rouse sympathy in the breasts of his hearers. It roused none, and he wandered across the room and dragged an enormous book out upon the floor. He sprawled over it in a dim corner, his eyes apparently studying the fireplace, and his fingers following across the page the raised dots which spelled his morrow's lesson. What nice hands he had, Felicia thought, watching from her seat, and how delicately yet strongly he used them! She wondered what he could do with them in later years. "They mustn't be wasted," she thought. She glanced across at Ken. He too was looking at Kirk, with an oddly sober expression, and when she caught his eye he grew somewhat red and stared out at the rain. "Better, Mother dear?" Felicia asked, curling down on a footstool at Mrs. Sturgis's feet. "Rather, thank you," said her mother, and fell silent, patting the arm of the chair as though she were considering whether or not to say something more. She said nothing, however, and they sat quietly in the falling dusk, Felicia stroking her mother's white hand, and Ken humming softly to himself at the window. Kirk and his book were almost lost in the corner--just a pale hint of the page, shadowed by the hand which moved hesitantly across it. The hand paused, finally, and Kirk demanded, "What's 'u-g-h' spell?" "It spells 'Ugh'!" Ken grunted. "What on earth are you reading? Is _that_ what Miss Bolton gives you!" "It's not my lesson," Kirk said; "it's much further along. But I can read it." "You'll get a wigging. You'd better stick to 'The cat can catch the mouse,' _et cetera_." "I finished that _years_ ago," said Kirk, loftily. "This is a different book, even. Listen to this: 'Ugh! There--sat--the dog with eyes--as--big as--as--'" "Tea-cups," said Felicia. "'T-e-a-c-' yes, it _is_ tea-cups," Kirk conceded; "how did you know, Phil?--'as big as tea-cups,--staring--at--him. "You're a nice--fellow," said the soldier, and he--sat him--on--the witch's ap-ron, and took as many cop--copper shillings--as his--pockets would hold.'" "So that's it, is it?" Ken said. "Begin at the beginning, and let's hear it all." "Ken," said his mother, "that's in the back of the book. You shouldn't encourage him to read things Miss Bolton hasn't given him."