I had such a line in my head, I was forced to write it down. Is not
it a capital subject this time?"

"The devotion of Decius? Capital. Let me see!" said Norman, taking
up a paper scribbled in pencil, with Latin verses. "Oh, you have
taken up quite a different line from mine. I began with Mount
Vesuvius spouting lava like anything."

"But Mount Vesuvius didn't spout till it overthrew Pompeii."

"Murder!" cried Norman, "I forgot! It's lucky you put me in mind.
I must make a fresh beginning. There go my six best lines! However,
it was an uncanny place, fit for hobgoblins, and shades, and funny
customers, which will do as well for my purpose. Ha! that's grand
about its being so much better than the vana gloria triumphalis--only
take care of the scanning there--"

"If it was but English. Something like this:


"For what is equal to the fame
Of forgetting self in the aim?


That's not right, but--"

"Ethel, Norman, what are you about?" cried Flora. "Do you mean to go
to Cocksmoor to-day?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Ethel, flying into vehement activity; "only I've