new situation. At last, her face flushed with happiness, she
announced her decision.

"Go on telling me about Beauty and the Beast now," she said
breathlessly, "and THEN tell me why you haven't got a garden."

My average time for Beauty and the Beast is ten minutes, and, if we
stop at the place when the Beast thought he was dead, six minutes
twenty-five seconds. But, with the aid of seemingly innocent
questions, a determined character can make even the craftiest uncle
spin the story out to half an hour.

"Next time," said Margery, when we had reached the appointed place
and she was being tucked up in bed, "will you tell me ALL the
story?"

Was there the shadow of a smile in her eyes? I don't know. But I'm
sure it will be wisest next time to promise her the whole thing. We
must make that point clear at the very start, and then we shall get
along.






II.--THE LITERARY ART