Reuben discovered he had pulled down his underlip. Mr. Hibbs had striven for three years to break him of the habit, but Reuben, as now, was often unaware he had done it until it was too late. He let it back gently without the usual comforting pop. "To me," Reuben said, "the word 'agitate' suggested fluttering. I might translate: 'Why was it that Daedalus fluttered safe wings?'" He glanced up, honestly feeling as apologetic as a puppy caught _in flagrante_ with a ravished shoe. "To me, sir, Daedalus was no butterfly." Ben knocked his Ovid on the floor and scrambled after it. Reuben guessed he was trying to divert the lightning, but Mr. Hibbs paid the uproar no heed at all, staring at Reuben with a twitching nose. You could never quite predict Gideon Hibbs: the next moment might be hell, or sudden sunshine, or merely another sneeze. It was sunshine. Mr. Hibbs relaxed, a wrestler overcome, and laughed, a large generous bray. "You have a point, Reuben. Oh yes!" He fumbled for a kerchief and blew the inflamed organ mightily. "Well, but I'm not content with so flat a word as 'moved.' Benjamin? Considering the wriggles you perform at your desk (and I declare only a young backside could endure it) you ought to be able to offer some word conveying the sense of a sustained and powerful motion." Shining with relief, Ben said: "'Plied'?" "Why, excellent!" Mr. Hibbs tensed in astonishment. "'Why was it Daedalus plied uninjured wings?'--mph, comes out in English as iambic pentameter, bless me if it doesn't. Satisfactory, Reuben?" "Yes, sir, I like that. 'Why was it Daedalus plied uninjured wings, but Icarus marks with his name the enormous waves?'" Out of a suspended hush, Mr. Hibbs sighed. "Benjamin, proceed. If possible, without butterflies. Let us leave the butterflies to Reuben." Reuben thought with care: _He means no harm by that, none at all...._ His eyes idly compelled the carved B--R to grow immense and blurred, and he listened to Ben's voice: "nempe quod hic alte, demissius ille volabat; nam pennas ambo non habuere suas." "Quantities correct, Benjamin. Construe." "'Surely it was because Icarus flew high, and Daedalus lower; for both wore wings that were not their own.'" "Eh, Benjamin, doing uncommon well today. High time of course--I am not prepared to consider this the millennium." Mr. Hibbs could seldom bear to leave a compliment undiluted. "Well, gentlemen, I suggest to you, these particular lines are something more than an exercise in grammar and prosody. I think, no more of the _Tristia_ today. Your grammars if you please--this afternoon it shall be Cicero of course." "Sir"--startled, Reuben saw his brother rising, not quite knocking over his little desk--"sir, may I ask a favor?" Mr. Hibbs' lank features froze, but not completely. "Yes, my boy?"