"Oh, well," said Annie, "it is quite easy to cultivate the art of shutting your ears. It is done in this way. The very moment the lecturer begins, you fix your mind, instantly, on that thing that captivates you most--your next new dress, for instance, or your future lover, or something else all-absorbing. It is possible to do this and to keep your mind absolutely abstracted, fixed on your own delicious thoughts, and yet your eyes may be directed to the face of the lecturer. You try it next time, Mabel. The very next time your aunt Henrietta begins to talk to you of the advantages of school, you think of--of--oh, that exalted, that exquisite time when _he_ proposes. You won't hear a word of the rasping talk then; not a word, I do assure you." Mabel laughed. "What a goose you are, Annie!" she said. "But really, I suppose it is a good plan." "Once I overdid it," said Annie. "Uncle Horace was talking on, oh! so gently. He was looking a little sad, too, and I knew I should have to make my subject very absorbing not to take in his words. So I had my hero down on his knees, and his hand was clasping mine, and he was talking, oh! most eloquently. I really forgot that Uncle Horace was by, and I burst out: `I can't marry you quite yet, Clement!' I thought Uncle Horace would have a fit. He was convinced for the remainder of that day that I had been for a short time touched by lunacy. I explained to him as best I could that I was only reciting something I had learned at school; but of course he didn't believe me." "He never understood you; that is one comfort," laughed Mabel. "No, my dear, he didn't. But to this day I do believe he is looking out everywhere for my imaginary Clement. He is convinced that I shall run away with him some day." Mabel was silent for a minute. Then she said, "You are too comical, Annie. It is well to have your powers of imagination; but the worst of it is that in my case I get the lectures by letter. Oh, it's enough to sicken one!" "Well, read your letter--do," said Annie. Mabel sank into the nearest chair, and languidly tearing open the thin envelope of her aunt's letter, unfolded the sheets and began to read. Annie's first impulse was to rise and leave the room. She had her own interests to see after, and Mabel would be lost to external things for a bit. But a sudden exclamation from her companion caused her to change her mind. Mabel uttered something between a groan and a laugh, and then, tossing her aunt's voluminous sheets across to Annie, said: "Read that letter, and just tell me if Aunt Henrietta isn't quite enough to drive anybody mad." "May I read it all?" asked Annie, who adored confidences, and whose principal power in the school lay in the fact that she was more or less in everybody's secret. "Yes, yes; read it aloud. I declare I have hardly taken it in, I am so bewildered at Aunt Henrietta's point of view."